#these are not my final thoughts so much as they are raw unfiltered i finished the game two hours ago and can never heal thoughts | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

that1emowitch · 1 year

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Fire #7 (Jason Todd & Child!OC)

Summary:

One whole chapter dedicated to comfort, Jason finally realises that maybe, just maybe, he's not alone. ALSO JAYROY.

Rating: Teen & Up Audiences (there might be some swears and graphic descriptions of violence)

Word Count: 5915

A/N:

I got kinda carried away while writing this and ended up writing 6000 words instead of 3000 but~~ THE MORE THE MERRIER

Chapter 7: Family

"Please, Jason… I can't lose you like this." Roy’s words hung heavy in the air, carrying with them all the unsaid feelings he had held close for so long. "Man, there's so much I haven't told you. I need you to wake up... I need to tell you how much I love you."

A choked sob caught in his throat as the weight of his emotions became too much to bear. Tear-filled eyes remained fixed on Jason's still form, as if willing his friend to hear, to respond. "I love you so much, Jay... Please..."

The truth hung in the air, his admission raw and unfiltered. He wasn't sure if Jason could hear him, but he needed to say it, to let the words out into the universe. In the midst of his despair, Roy's grip on Jason's hand tightened even further, a physical manifestation of his anguish, of his plea for life to return to his beloved.

Suddenly, Roy felt his hand being squeezed back. His head snapped up as he rushed even closer to the bed. “Jason?”

“R—Roy?” Jason’s voice was scratchy and weak as his eyes struggled to focus on the redhead in front of him. “You—”

A flood of emotions surged within Roy as he leaned in, his gaze fixed on Jason's struggling form. The sight before him felt miraculous, a confirmation that his words had reached through the void. His heart overflowed with relief, love, and a yearning for the return of the man who had become an irreplaceable part of his life. "Jason," he breathed, his voice filled with emotion.

Jason's voice, though weak and raspy, was a lifeline. “You—”

Before he could finish, Roy enveloped him in a gentle hug, mindful of the injuries that marred Jason's body. "Jay…" His voice quivered with emotion, a mixture of relief and profound tenderness.

In the midst of his vulnerability, Jason's plea resonated with an underlying need. “C—Can you say it again…” His words held a hint of uncertainty, a vulnerable yearning for reassurance. He thought Roy had said it… Or maybe my stupid mind just made it up…

A rush of warmth flooded Roy's heart as he met Jason's gaze, realising that Jason had heard his confession. He hasn’t pushed me away yet. Tears welled in his eyes, a mixture of emotions dancing within them. “Jason, I love you…”

Jason's defences crumbled, tears escaping his eyes as he allowed his emotions to surface. His own vulnerability echoed Roy's, a shared moment of catharsis. “I— Y—” His voice faltered, the weight of his emotions proving difficult to articulate. Why would he love me? I’m just a fucking mess…

Roy's tender touch against Jason's cheek drew a shaky breath from him. “Jay, baby, I love you so much… Please, for fuck’s sake, don’t do something like that again, okay? You scared me… I thought I’d lose you…”

The walls around Jason's heart finally gave way, and he sobbed, releasing the pent-up pain and fear that had plagued him. Roy gently pulled him into his lap, caressing his face, letting him know it was okay to cry. Jason buried his face into his best friend’s neck. Best friend. That’s all I’ll ever be to him, won’t I?

A sudden impulse surged through Jason, compelling him to lift his head, his gaze locking onto Roy's captivating green eyes. Without overthinking, he pressed his lips against Roy's in a kiss that was both tender and passionate. He drank in the taste of his beloved's lips, each sensation an intoxicating rush that momentarily pushed away his worries. Roy's response, the reciprocation of the kiss, sent an electric jolt through him, flooding his senses with euphoria, a moment of pure and undiluted happiness.

But as swiftly as it began, the kiss was interrupted as Roy pulled away, leaving Jason disoriented and craving more. "What—" The confusion in Roy's voice matched the tumult of emotions that swirled in his eyes, reflecting a mix of surprise, curiosity, and perhaps a hint of something more.

Jason's heart raced, his cheeks flushing as he struggled to find the words to explain his actions. He wasn't used to acting on impulse, especially when it came to matters of the heart. His mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest. Tears threatened to spill again. "I— I'm so sorry— I didn't—"

“You still like me?” Roy's piercing question cut through Jason's stammering, the raw vulnerability in the redhead's voice hitting him with the force of a punch.

The question hung in the air, the weight of their history colouring every word. It was a question that held years of unspoken conversations, of buried emotions, and heartaches. Jason swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry, as he met Roy's gaze head-on.

He took a deep breath, steadying himself, the turmoil within him giving way to the truth he had always known but never quite said aloud. "Roy, you know it's more than just 'like', right?" His voice trembled slightly, every syllable carrying the weight of his feelings. "I've never stopped loving you."

Roy's eyes widened, his surprise evident, and Jason hurried to elaborate. "I know we agreed to stay best friends after what happened between us, and I respect that. But that doesn't mean those feelings vanished. I just— I felt like I couldn’t compare to Jade Nguyen… I knew you still loved her… I mean, she’s Lian’s mom, why wouldn’t you? I…" He trailed off, a mixture of emotions swirling in his eyes. "It hurt, Roy. It hurt more than I thought it would."

A conflicted expression clouded Roy's features, his emotions evident as he tried to process Jason's words. "Jason," he began, his voice laden with sincerity. "Why didn’t you tell me before? I didn't... I didn't mean for you to get hurt. My relationship and my feelings for Jade faded long before we even considered being together."

Jason looked down, his heart aching as he felt the surge of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. "I know that now," he whispered, his voice heavy with regret. "But back then... I felt like I was just your rebound, like I was disposable."

Roy's fingers reached out, gently tilting Jason's chin to meet his gaze. "You were never disposable, Jay." His voice held an earnestness that resonated deeply with Jason. "And I'm sorry for making you feel that way."

“It— It’s not just that…” Jason looked away, his gaze fixed on a distant point as he struggled to articulate the turmoil that had been brewing inside him. "I can't be what you need, Roy. I'm broken, and I've got all these scars, both inside and out." He could feel the painful lump forming in his throat, the words coming out in a rush. "And with the Pit and all… I can't risk hurting you, using you as a way to fix myself."

Roy's expression shifted from confusion to realisation, and Jason felt a pang in his chest at the understanding in Roy's eyes. "But I need you," Roy said softly, his voice laced with a mix of sadness and empathy.

Jason nodded, his throat tight as he struggled to hold back the emotions threatening to spill over. "Me too. But I can't do that to you, Roy. I—I can't let you be dragged into my mess. You keep having to do so much for me, I don’t deserve that…"

Roy's hand gently cupped Jason's chin, guiding his gaze back to him. "Jason, listen to me," he said, his voice unwavering. "You're not worthless, and you're certainly not a rebound." His thumb brushed against Jason's cheek, his touch tender. "You're the person I care about, the person I love. And I don't care about your scars or your past. I care about you, for who you are. We’re both complete messes, but we can help each other get better."

Tears welled up in Jason's eyes, and he felt a mixture of relief and fear coursing through him. "I'm just scared, Roy," he admitted, his voice cracking. "Scared of hurting you, of letting you down."

Roy's fingers wiped away a tear that had escaped Jason's eye. "Jason, we all have our fears, our insecurities. But that doesn't mean we let them define us or dictate our actions."

Jason swallowed hard, the emotions he had suppressed for so long finally breaking free. "I love you, Roy. That's why I can't do this, why I can't let myself drag you into my mess."

Roy's eyes softened, his gaze unwavering. "And I love you, Jason. Your scars, your past, they're a part of you, but they're not all of you. We face things together, Jay. That's what love is about."

Jason felt a glimmer of hope amidst the turmoil inside him. "So, you're saying... you're willing to face my mess with me?"

Roy smiled, his fingers tracing a gentle path on Jason's cheek. "I'm saying I'm willing to face anything with you, Jay."

A small smile found its way to Jason’s face. “When did you get so wise, Harper?”

A chuckle slipped through Roy’s lips, a mixture of amusement and affection evident in his eyes. “You broke up with me because you thought I didn’t actually like you, then proceeded to say we’d be better off as best friends… bro, you literally friendzoned yourself!”

Jason's lips curved into a playful grin, his gaze holding a hint of mischief. But then, without warning, he closed the gap between them and kissed Roy fiercely, a surge of newfound confidence coursing through him. It was a kiss filled with desire, a silent proclamation of emotions that had been suppressed for far too long. As he pulled away, he brushed his lips against Roy’s jaw, his eyes darkened, lust-blown with longing. “I’m not your bro.”

Roy's smirk grew wider, his heart racing as Jason's actions sent sparks of electricity through his veins. He relished in the sensation of Jason's gentle nibbles along his jawline, their closeness igniting a fiery passion between them. The intensity of their connection was undeniable, and he found himself lost in the moment, entwined with the man he had always cared for so deeply.

However, the spell was abruptly broken by an unexpected interruption. A voice pierced through the charged atmosphere, shattering their intimate cocoon and bringing them back to reality.

"Uh, if you two are done, could you come upstairs for a bit?" Tim's voice sounded from the doorway of the med bay, his tone a mix of amusement and exasperation. He cast a pointed glance at Jason's bandaged torso before adding, "And maybe wear a shirt. Nile doesn’t need to see her dad being hurt."

Roy's eyes shifted from Jason to Tim, his expression transforming to surprise. He arched an eyebrow, a silent question in his gaze. Jason's eyes widened in realisation, the truth hitting him that he hadn't yet informed Roy about adopting Nile.

"Right, uh— See, I was going to tell you, but then all this happened, and—" He stopped himself before he rambled on too long and gathered his breath. “I found a little girl, she was all alone with no one to care for her, and she’d somehow got caught up in a meta-children trafficking business, so I adopted her so no one could hurt her again.”

A chuckle escaped Roy's lips as he gently touched Jason's cheek, his tone affectionate. "Guess we've got more than a few things to catch up on. God, we really need to work on communication."

Jason nodded, a soft smile gracing his features. "Yeah, I guess so."

Tim ascended the stairs, his footsteps echoing in the quiet of the house, leading him to Cass's room, where she and Steph sat playing with Nile. The little angel had immediately taken a liking to Cass, and had warmed up to Steph in just minutes. That wasn’t very hard, both of them were some of the most awesome people he knew, his big sister and his best friend. Plus, Nile seemed to be a glowing ball of sunshine with never-ending love to share with the world. He couldn't help but smile as he observed the trio reading a colourful picture book together.

The faint rustling behind him signalled the arrival of Jason and Roy. Tim's senses sharpened, a remnant of wariness still lingering from their past encounters. Although it’d been two years since Jason last tried to kill him, the unease hadn't entirely dissipated, even with the progress they had made.

Shrugging off the hesitation, Tim entered the room, making way for Jason and Roy to follow. He noted the subtle shifts in their dynamic; their connection seemed more profound, their emotions more openly displayed. Everyone knew they loved each other before, but now… it felt like they knew it too. I’m glad Jason found someone, even though it happens to be Dick’s ex. It was like him and Kon. He’d been such a mess before Kon came into his life. To be fair, I’m still a mess, but now we have each other.

As Jason stepped into the room, his body tensed involuntarily. The collective gaze of his companions, a mixture of concern and empathy, fixed upon him, their worry like an unspoken weight in the air. His instinctual response was to meet their gaze with a flash of anger, a protective barrier against the sympathy he perceived. They don’t need to feel sorry for me. He didn't want anyone's pity. Not now, not ever.

"Nile," his voice emerged firm and commanding, a directive that held an undercurrent of frustration. He needed to take control of the situation, to seize a semblance of autonomy amidst the chaos of his emotions. "We need to go." His gaze flickered to the young girl, who looked at him with big, innocent eyes. He didn't want her to witness his vulnerability, his moments of weakness. "We won't be any more trouble," he added, a hint of defiance colouring his words.

The room seemed to hold its breath for a moment, the tension palpable. Jason's stance was resolute, his body language a shield against the well-intentioned concern that surrounded him. He couldn't let them see him like this, couldn't bear their well-meaning but suffocating expressions.

Cass launched herself into Jason's arms, her petite form wrapping around him in a warm, affectionate embrace. Her presence felt like a sudden burst of light in the midst of his emotional turmoil. His gaze fell to her, his little sister, the one who had managed to find her place in his fractured world. Her eyes, so expressive despite her silence, fixed on his heart as she pointed to it with a sense of clarity. Her wordless declaration resonated deeply within him.

"Brother," she stated, pointing to him. "We love you," her message was short but crystal clear. Her sincerity radiated from her, a beacon of pure affection that cut through the layers of doubt and walls he had built. It was a simple affirmation, yet it bore immense weight, the weight of family, of acceptance, of belonging.

When he’d made peace with the Bats, all of them had still been extremely wary around him. I don’t blame them, honestly. But Cass… she’d always accepted him as he was. She was the only one he knew he could trust. She only likes me because she never actually saw how fucked up I am.

Jason's initial stiffness began to melt away, replaced by a hesitant but genuine response. He raised his arms, his embrace enveloping Cass in a protective cocoon. The emotions that swelled within him were almost overwhelming, a mixture of surprise, vulnerability, and a growing sense of warmth.

He wanted this. He wanted to be part of their family so bad. But some part of him just wouldn’t let him accept this. Torn between the yearning to belong and the harsh grip of his self-imposed isolation, a tempest of emotions raged within Jason's heart. His mind was a battlefield of doubt, uncertainty, and the haunting ghosts of his own mistakes.

The warmth of Cass's embrace juxtaposed against the cold walls he had built around himself. He felt the tug of her affection, a longing to surrender to the familial connection she offered, to embrace the love he so deeply desired.

But there was a stubborn resistance, a lingering belief that his presence would only bring chaos, pain, and more scars. I’d only end up hurting everyone around me. He couldn’t risk any more people getting trauma because of his stupid Pit Terrors. He blinked back hot tears, desperate to keep up his tough exterior. He swallowed the lump in his throat, choking back the turmoil threatening to overcome him.

Blinking rapidly, he tried to quell the burning tears that welled in his eyes, refusing to let them fall. He had spent years honing his facade, crafting an image of defiance and strength, and he wasn't about to let it crumble now. The dichotomy of his inner battle played across his features, a storm of emotions flickering across his face as he struggled to maintain control. Why am I getting so emotional all of a sudden? This never used to happen before…

His gaze shifted, drawn to the scene before him. Nile, his precious daughter, laughed and played with his ‘siblings’. They surrounded her with a protective shield of camaraderie and affection. He felt a bittersweet pang in his chest, a mixture of longing and resignation.

She deserves better than me, he thought, his self-deprecation an old refrain that still echoed loudly. His vision started tinting green again. She’s better off with them… They can keep her safe… I— I’ll just end up hurting her like I hurt everyone else.

"Jason," a familiar voice sliced through the whirlwind of his thoughts, jerking him back to the present. His connection with Cass loosened as he turned, eyes locking onto the figure in the doorway. Dick Grayson stood there, a mixture of concern and relief etched onto his features. Jason's breath caught in his throat, his heart doing a strange dance between anxiety and something he couldn't quite name.

Before he could react, Dick enveloped him in an embrace, wrapping his arms around Jason as if he could shield him from the storms that had been brewing inside. The hug was unexpected, an intrusion upon the walls Jason had so painstakingly erected. He stood stiffly, his body tense within Dick's embrace. "We were so worried!" Dick's voice was a mix of genuine concern and exasperation, a blend of emotions that left Jason grappling with his own response.

As the hug persisted, Jason's inner turmoil surged anew. He had become accustomed to isolation, to fending for himself, and this gesture felt alien, foreign in its vulnerability. He shifted slightly, his mind a tempest of conflicting emotions. The embrace was comforting yet uncomfortable, reminding him of the complexities of his relationships with this family he couldn't seem to extricate himself from.

With a sudden motion, he pulled away from Dick's hold, the abruptness a testament to his inner turmoil. His eyes bore into Dick's, a storm of emotions swirling within his gaze. Confusion, anger, and a hint of vulnerability mingled in the depths of his irises. "I don't need your sympathy, Dick," he retorted, his voice laced with defensiveness.

The hurt that flickered across Dick's expression was palpable. Jason watched as his words landed, the impact stark in the wounded look that clouded Dick's eyes. He immediately regretted his harsh tone, the sharpness of his words. The reality of the situation hung heavily between them, an unspoken history laden with pain and longing. Wait, why do I feel sorry? He’s treated me this way for years!

The room seemed to hold its breath as the silence lingered, the tension between them almost tangible. And then, Dick's lips twitched into a wry smile, a glint of mischief and hurt mingling in his gaze. "Well, you didn't have to say 'Dick' in that way," he countered, his voice tinged with a mix of humour and self-deprecation.

"We were actually worried, you know?" Tim's voice carried a quiet sincerity, a testament to the genuine concern that had been lingering in the air. He approached Jason with a softness that stood in stark contrast to the usual brashness the young man exhibited. "Look, we get it. You're hurting. Just let us help!"

Jason's steely gaze met Tim's, an unspoken challenge evident in his stance. He clung to the armour of his façade, as if it were the only thing keeping him tethered to some semblance of control. But a voice, a relentless whisper in the back of his mind, insisted otherwise.

Lies, it hissed, each word a sharp reminder of his doubts and insecurities. They're just being nice. None of them actually want you here.

His glare remained unwavering, a defence mechanism that had served him well over the years. He didn't want their pity, their sympathy. He didn't need it. He grunted dismissively, his gaze shifting to his daughter, Nile, who had been caught in the crossfire of his inner battle. "C'mon, Nile. Let's go," he urged, his tone carrying an undercurrent of urgency.

Nile's innocent gaze met his, those wide eyes filled with both curiosity and a hint of disappointment. "But Jayyy, I wanna play with Auntie Cassie!" she protested, her voice a chorus of puppy-like enthusiasm.

"We're leaving, now," he responded, the sharpness of his words betraying his inner turmoil. The faint edges of his vision seemed to ripple with a green tinge, a reminder of the unsettling chaos that often accompanied his emotions.

Yet, just as he moved to lead Nile away, a soft, gentle voice cut through the haze of his thoughts, pulling him back from the brink. "Jay, baby…" Roy's voice was a soothing balm, a whisper that echoed with care and understanding. A warm hand settled onto his back, the touch grounding him in the midst of his inner tempest. "Let's stay here for a while? Nile seems to like it here, and I wanna get to know her better…"

Jason's resolve wavered as Roy's touch and words worked their way through his defences. His glare softened, replaced by a conflicted expression. Roy's steadfast presence was like a lifeline, a reminder that not everything was as black and white as he often perceived it to be. "We can go to my apartment. You can talk there," he countered, his voice a mixture of stubbornness and vulnerability.

Roy's next words, gentle yet laden with an underlying plea, struck a chord within him. "Please, Jaybird… For me?" The redhead's eyes held a vulnerability of their own, a silent plea that bypassed the walls Jason had built around himself.

A resigned huff escaped Jason's lips as he felt the layers of his resistance slowly giving way. He couldn't resist that adorable look, those puppy eyes that held a power over him like nothing else. "Fine," he conceded, a hint of reluctant affection in his voice. He met Roy's gaze, allowing himself to linger in that gaze for a moment longer before turning his attention back to Nile. "We'll stay for one day."

As Jason's words hung in the air, he couldn't help but notice the way the room seemed to brighten, as if his simple declaration had ignited a spark of joy in each person present. He watched the array of expressions on their faces, each a testament to their genuine happiness. A flicker of wonder crept into his mind. Why are they so happy? Could it be… because they actually wanted me to stay?

But like an unwelcome shadow, the voice, that relentless whisper of doubt and fear, resurfaced with its familiar poison. Of course they didn't, it hissed with a venomous edge. They're just glad you didn't take the girl away from them. It was a reminder that his past experiences had ingrained in him — a scepticism that had become a defence mechanism.

Yet, this time, an unexpected shift occurred within him. An almost stubborn determination bloomed, and he pushed back against that voice with all his might. He silenced it, refusing to let it dampen this fragile moment of connection. For the first time in days, he shut out the voice, as fast and as firmly as he could. He consciously ignored its persistent whisper, choosing to grasp onto the possibilities that were unfolding before him.

Call him selfish, but he found himself yearning for this warmth, for this sense of belonging that he had kept at arm's length for so long. The tenderness in their eyes, the genuine concern they had shown him, it had managed to chip away at the walls he had built. For now, he wanted to bask in this newfound camaraderie, to allow himself to believe, if only for a moment, that he could be a part of something more, that he was deserving of their care.

"Yay!" Dick's joyful squeal echoed through the room, his excitement contagious. "Roy and Nile can stay with you in your own room if you want. I think Alfie's making lasagna tonight! We can have a family bonding night, make pillow forts, and—"

Tim's pragmatic interruption cut through the exuberance. "Woah. We still need to investigate about—" He lowered his voice, ensuring Nile couldn't overhear. "—Falcone."

Jason's eyebrows shot up, a mix of surprise and concern flickering across his features. "Wait, what?"

Dick stepped in to provide the necessary context. "Someone hired Falcone to find her."

That information hit Jason like a punch to the gut, a visceral reaction that ignited a blaze of anger deep within him. It must be the work of that Ma’am that Nile was so scared of. The mere thought of someone attempting to hurt the innocent child he had grown to love fueled a potent fury within him, so intense it nearly overshadowed his surroundings.

As his fists clenched at his sides, he felt the urge to lash out, to seek retribution for the harm done to Nile, to himself, and to all those who had been put in harm's way. He could feel the Pit’s presence growing stronger in the back of his mind.

“I’m hunting that bastard down,” Jason decided, turning to leave.

"No," Cass's soft voice interjected, her gesture towards his bandaged torso speaking volumes. "Hurt. We'll go."

His frustrated exhale mingled with a reluctant nod, acknowledging her wisdom. He turned his gaze to Nile, whose innocent eyes held both uncertainty and trust. He would protect her, no matter what. As his anger simmered, he found a renewed determination. The promise he mentally made to his daughter was a vow etched in his heart. "I won't let them hurt you, Nile," he affirmed silently, his fierce devotion lending strength to his resolve.

Jason tenderly lifted his daughter into his arms, her cheerful voice ringing out with a heartwarming "HI JAY!" The sound ignited a warmth deep within him, but he masked it with a quiet response, not wanting to reveal the extent of his emotions in front of the Bats. With a half-smile, he nodded a goodbye to Cass and his 'brothers' before leading the way to his old room, signalling for Roy to follow.

As the door closed behind them, a tangible sense of relief settled over Jason, his tense shoulders finally finding some respite. With a gentle nuzzle, he let his affection for Nile shine through, then carefully set her down on the bed. Roy joined them, taking a seat beside Jason and the little girl. Nile's inquisitive gaze met Roy's uncertain one, and a silent exchange of curiosity passed between them.

"Um, right," Jason began, a hint of nervousness in his voice. "Nile, this is my—uh—boyfriend, Roy. Babe, this is Nile."

Roy offered a somewhat awkward wave, a small smile gracing his features. Nile's bright eyes widened with understanding, and then she beamed a smile back at Roy. "HI ROY!"

With enthusiasm, she clambered onto Roy's lap, and he helped her up with a careful hand. Her innocent question hung in the air, pulling a soft chuckle from both adults. "What's a boyfriend?" she asked, her curiosity prompting a shared glance between the two men.

"Ah, well," Roy started, his fingers idly brushing a strand of Nile's hair behind her ear. "A boyfriend is like a really good friend, but someone you care about a whole lot more. Someone you like spending time with and doing fun things together."

Nile's eyes sparkled with interest as she processed Roy's explanation. "Like when Jay and I go to the ice cream?" she asked, her gaze shifting between the two men.

Jason nodded, a soft smile on his lips. "Ice cream shop. But exactly, sweetheart. It's like having a special person you want to share your adventures and happy moments with."

Roy chimed in with a grin. "And also someone who will be there to help and support you whenever you need it."

Nile's face lit up. "Like when Jay helps me tie my shoes?"

"That's right," Roy confirmed with a warm smile. "Just like that."

The room seemed to fill with a sense of ease as the three of them sat together on the bed, the concept of a 'boyfriend' being gently explained to the young girl. For Jason, watching the interaction between Roy and Nile brought a swell of warmth to his chest. It was a moment he hadn't imagined himself having, not so long ago when he had been drowning in his own troubles.

He really is my boyfriend again. For real this time. I just need to make sure I don’t fuck this up again.

Jason's eyes shifted to the clock on the nightstand, the red digits glaring back at him. “Holy—” he began, only to catch himself before uttering a swear word in front of Nile. “It’s 3 in the morning! You should be asleep by now!”

Nile's adorable pout was accompanied by a whine. “But I don’t wanna!”

Jason paused, thinking of how to get her to sleep without making a fuss. He didn’t want to speak too harshly and risk triggering any trauma she had from her time with her kidnappers. He searched for the right words, a delicate balance between firmness and understanding. “Nile, sweetheart, it's really important to get enough sleep. We have a big day tomorrow, and you need to be well-rested.”

Just as he was mentally preparing for a potential standoff, Roy intervened with his characteristic charm. “Hey, how about this?” he proposed, his voice warm and inviting. “I'll read you a bedtime story, and then Jay-Jay here can sing you your favourite song. Trust me, he's got an amazing voice.”

Nile's young mind seemed to process this proposal carefully, a hint of intrigue in her eyes. “Okay!” she exclaimed, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm.

With a soft smile, Roy retrieved a picture book from Cass’s room and began to read, his voice melodic and soothing. Jason watched with a mixture of amusement and affection as Nile's eyelids drooped, her small body gradually succumbing to sleep.

As the story concluded and Roy gently closed the book, the room seemed to sigh into a tranquil hush, the stillness broken only by Nile's soft breathing. Jason's gaze shifted from Nile to Roy, the gratitude he felt for this man weighing heavy on his heart.

Breaking the comfortable silence, Jason ventured, “You must have quite a bit of experience with this kind of thing, huh?”

Roy chuckled softly. “Yeah, Lian can be quite a handful sometimes.”

The mention of Roy's daughter brought a momentary shadow to Jason's features. “You left her alone to come help me… You shouldn’t have to do that.”

Roy's brow furrowed, his expression sincere. “Baby, I love you. I'll always be here for you, no matter what. And don't worry about Lian; Dinah's looking after her right now."

In that moment, Jason felt a tangle of emotions. He nodded, his gaze softening. "I know you will be. Thanks, Roy."

Roy's smile held the promise of unwavering support. "Anytime, Jaybird."

Jason's heart ached with a mix of gratitude and guilt, a swirling blend of emotions that had become all too familiar. His fingers absentmindedly stroked Nile's hair as he gazed down at her peaceful face, his mind racing with thoughts that had plagued him for days. Jason's gaze met Roy's, a mixture of feelings passing between them. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to convey, but the stupid voices in his head kept holding him back.

Roy's gentle smile seemed to understand all the unspoken words. "You're doing great with her, you know," he whispered, his fingers tracing Nile's tiny hand.

A bittersweet smile tugged at Jason's lips. "I'm trying. But I'm still figuring things out."

"That's okay," Roy reassured him, his voice filled with warmth. "You don't have to do it alone."

Jason's throat tightened, and he nodded, unable to find the words to express the gratitude he felt. His gaze returned to Nile, watching her sleep peacefully, a feeling of protectiveness settling over him. He wasn't sure what the future held, but in that moment, surrounded by the people who cared about him, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, he could find some semblance of peace and happiness once again.

Roy shifted closer to Jason, his heart racing in his chest. He had rehearsed these words countless times in his head, but now that he was actually facing Jason, his confidence wavered. He had to remind himself: be honest, be sincere. This was Jason, the man he loved, and he needed to express his feelings. It’s now or never. Don’t fuck it up.

With a deep breath, he reached out and took Jason's hand, fingers intertwining. “Look, Jay, there’s… there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you for a long time…”

Jason's curious eyes met Roy's emerald green gaze, and in that moment, Roy felt a rush of reassurance. He pressed on, his voice steady despite the fluttering in his chest. “I—” He stumbled over his words, the weight of vulnerability heavy in the air. “Do— Do you wanna move in together?”

The silence that followed seemed to stretch, hanging between them like an unspoken question. Roy's anxiety crept higher, gnawing at his confidence. The seconds dragged on, each one a heartbeat that echoed loudly in his ears.

“Like—” Roy's voice rushed out, his words tumbling over each other as he tried to articulate his thoughts. “Maybe— We could rent a house— like— somewhere in between Gotham and Star City— and— uh— Lian and Nile could grow up together— with us—”

Before he could finish his sentence, Jason's lips were on his, gentle and soft. The kiss caught Roy by surprise, but he quickly melted into it, feeling the warmth of Jason's affection, the answer he had been hoping for.

Breaking the kiss, Jason's voice was a quiet affirmation, a whisper of acceptance that held a world of emotions. “Of course,” he breathed, his eyes reflecting his surprise and something more. "I've never wanted anything more."

The weight of those words hung in the air, a declaration of commitment and love. Roy's heart swelled with gratitude, and he brushed his thumb over the back of Jason's hand. "I'm so lucky to have you, Jay."

Jason's lips curled into a small, genuine smile. “I'm the lucky one," he murmured, his eyes locked onto Roy's. What did I do to deserve you?

A/N

finally some comfort, for my sanity and yours.

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littlefreya · 4 years

Text

Bark at the Moon

Summary: Walter always comes to you when he needs a hard release. Tonight he seems to need it more than ever.

Pairing: Werewolf!Walter Marshall x Female Reader

Word count: 2K (WTF it was supposed to be a drabble)

Warnings: 18+, sex, lycanthropy, supernatural themes, no strings attached, vaginal fingering, oral performed on female, primal play (slight biting and scratching), cockwarming, slight denial, angst, fluff and romance.

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own

A/N: Not me naming my AUs after Ozzy Osbourne songs/albums. Following my post from October I am trying to follow up. This one-shot is also inspired by A Company of Wolves and @fishcustardandclintbarton moodboard. Many thanks to my beta and muse and dear friend @agniavateira for all the help.

Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed 🖤

Title: Bark at the Moon

Muddy Timberlands dragged across the worn doormat as the large detective sought to rid himself of the dirt caking his soles. Black and soft, the dark mane of curls hung loosely above his forehead, a pale blue sheen cascading over each ringlet that concealed his face while he kicked his feet like an unruly child.

An instinct within pressed you to reach a wandering hand and entwine your fingers between those healthy locks. But ironically, touching Walter screamed ‘taboo,’ as if he wasn't going to finish wet and messy inside you anyway.

Otherwise, he wouldn't have been here.

"Rough evening?" you murmured, taking a long whiff of air. Traces of coffee drifted from his breath, mingling with the brisk November chill that wafted over your face.

It's not that you didn't enjoy his company; it's just that Walter left you with nothing but bitemarks, bruises, and dirty sheets. A foreigner to this country even after all these years, Walter was much like the salty rocks from the islands that bred him: hardened and crude, yet smooth at the edge where the water licked the stone. Some evenings he wouldn't even speak; the moment his boots made it past the doorway, all civilised manners flew out the window, luring the beast to wander. Shredding your outfit, he’d fuck you to tears, shaking you the way a canine carnivore stuns its prey and then unload himself into you until you ached and begged him to stop.

Once stripped off his uniform, the sullen cop was no different than the deviants he shoved behind iron bars. Little did it matter, you loved him enough for the two of you, and though you knew you were a toy to pass the time, he always crawled back to you with that deprived agonised sparkle staining his gaze.

After what seemed like an endless battle between his shoes and the bristly rug, he finally paused and slowly lifted his chin. Marine-blue irises peered below thick brows, and a red rim of weariness perfected his customary scowl.

"Yeah," he drawled with indifference, "got any beer?"

Observing him for a moment, you studied the sharp ridges of his furrowed brow and nodded, turning to let him in. Despite his heavy frame, he followed with lithe stillness, stepping into your house without making a sound while you advanced to the kitchen.

Whatever happened tonight must have left another dent in the coarse material that made this man. You often mused on the things he must have seen and found out it’s better not to ask.

You reached for the fridge when his arm wrapped around your waist by surprise and snatched you back, hauling you flushed against his broad chest. Briefly, he nuzzled your nape, his parted lips huffing hot against your skin. His breath carried the pained melody of a sad longing animal, an ache so great it seeped through the pores of your skin and infected you with his grief.

You weren’t afraid of the beast but felt sorry for it.

“I need to feel you,” Walter rasped, a timbre of plea in his baritone. Palm swiping greedily at your breast and his cock hard and hungry, he ground his hips at the cleft of your ass. Like the black, shaggy dog that he was, he sniffed the air and then rubbed himself further against your jeans, seducing the wanton animal within you to come out of its hiding.

“You want me too, I can smell it, I can smell your cunt.”

Where was the lie?

With a guttural growl, he turned you to face him, skilful hands already making tatters of your clothes and his fangs nipping your throat. Caged in his grasp, you hissed and shuddered out of fear and lust. A part of you was always frightened that one night Walter will pierce an artery by mistake at the heat of the moment whilst another, more archaic urge, called for the sweet passion that was your Thanatos.

Succumbing to both urges, you forced his cable-knit sweater off, exposing his muscular, beefy torso and splaying your hands down his flexing pecs to feel the soft, dark fur that covered his chest and belly. Everything about Walter was large and charged with virility, twisting your moral compass and making any argument weak in his presence. Staring at the bulge in his trousers, you gnawed your bottom lip, giving to the pang of hunger that shot through your clenching core while your wicked fingers began to fumble with the clasp of his belt.

With a low roar rumbling in his chest, he scrutinised you as if this was a trial, his eyes flashing, anticipating you to reach and grab his large cock.

“Fuck…” his sonorous voice caressed your ears. He quickly slid his hand down your trousers, grabbing a handful of your ass before gliding his fingers to feel between your engorged petals.

A tempest of moans unfurled from your clenching throats once you squeezed his shaft in your palm, choking around the veins adorning the meaty girth.

“You are always so wet for me, always so ready,” he uttered and licked your cheek.

“Walter, please!”

At your plea, his fingers slipped deep inside your burning cavern. Back and forth, he probed your little slit, spreading thick wetness across your mound and further up your virginal ass to taunt you.

Before you met Walter you vowed that you’ll never be into that kind of debauchery. But whenever the bulbous crown of his cock accidentally teased your puckered hole, the only thing you could muster to think of was how much you wanted him to fill every empty inch within you.

Long, nimble fingers dug deep, parting your sealed walls asunder in an endeavour to find the small heap of pleasure that regressed you to savagery. You were nothing but an instrument of pleasure, gyrating to the melody he composed by the rhythm of his thrusts, following every note. He made you shudder, made the earth below split in half and all the while, he held back and watched. A sick mist of curiosity hovered over the frigid ocean that was his glance, mindful of how logic and reason drained from your face, leaving you utterly incoherent and primal.

Just as he was.

He crooned at your whimpers and nodded at the desperation dripping from your gaze. Hips swaying, you wriggled against his hand in a frustrated attempt to reach for the tendrils of ecstasy that loomed inches from your grasp.

“You want to come, love?” he asked, almost patronising. His brow lifted, and his eyes flared with what you could only describe as pity.

“Yes! Please! Please make me come!”

His fingers tore from your sleek with a sudden haul, leaving you a trembling, outraged mess. Yet you had no time to curse him for denying your pleasure. Moving faster than your thoughts, Walter stripped your trousers and slammed you rear onto the counter. Kneeling between your spread legs, his strong hands gripped your thighs and dragged your cunt into his bearded jaw.

“Fuck!”

His mouth wrapped around you in a lover’s embrace, his silky tongue plunging between your lips to savour the honeyed nectar that dripped from your tightening core. Thoroughly devouring your cunt, Walter hummed. Raw, unfiltered, and unbound, he laved every inch within as if he was dining at Olympus and feasting on ambrosia for the first time. Arching back, you dared to entangle your fingers in his curls and ride his bristly face until you succumbed to the furious, quaking bliss that spasmed within your womb and consumed you into rapturous euphoria.

Engulfed in a veil of blissful darkness, you continued wailing, heaving, and slumping on the counter. Puny jitters of aftershock trod upon your throbbing flesh while Walter finished his feast with languid laps of his tongue.

Once you blinked your eyes open, Walter stood straight between your legs, now fully naked, peering at you quietly. His eyes were aglow with all the conundrums he could never speak. Still hazy from your ecstasy, you stared back with awe, drinking each taut bulging muscle and worshipping the feral, beastlike entity that he was. Not even the scars on his body could steal away his unspoken pride.

Reaching a hand for his imposing cock, he crept closer and glared straight into your soul as he pressed himself into your tight little entrance. A loud groan thundered through your kitchen as he pushed in, erupting into the most melodic war cry which never failed to astound you once he penetrated you. Still clenched from your orgasm, you gritted your teeth and whimpered in pain, not quite ready to have all of him at once. Yet Walter wasn’t keen on stopping and continued delving deeper and deeper, despite your nails tearing fresh new trails of blood down his shoulders.

“Wait!” you pleaded, yelping when he suddenly bottomed out inside you.

An arduous gasp tore from his lips, and his forehead dropped on your shoulder. Stilling inside you, he breathed in the mien of a wild creature, trying to regain his composure for a brief moment as he timed his assault. Fingers etched below your thighs, he pulled you up with ease and carried you through the apartment whilst still buried inside you.

Confused by his actions, you hung your arms around his thick neck and clung to his body, welcoming the soft brush of his hide against your naked breasts.

Soon, you found yourself on your bed with him seated beneath you while your legs enveloped his wide waist. Nestled between your cinching walls, his cock throbbed full of rage, desperate for the unbridled friction that Walter forbade as he refused to move. Milking every drop of his self-control, he vigorously fought to dominate his desire.

With his shaft pulsating hot and buried completely within your womb, your previous orgasm felt like a distant dream and a fresh new need soon awoke, begging your body to writhe on top of him and take what you were promised by force. But Walter was in no rush to unmake any part of you just yet. Securing one arm around the small of your back while the other held your jaw, he made you stare directly into his eyes.

Bare more than ever, he allowed you to glimpse through the cracks that creased his beautiful blue eyes, showing you the pure terror harbouring the heart of darkness that lived within him.

Perhaps, a part of him desired you to break and cast him away from you, to say ‘nevermore.’

Mercy softened your face instead.

Enamoured and embroiled with curiosity, you allowed yourself to roam freely, gliding both your eyes and fingertips to descend the delectable plains of his body. Tender and careful, you stroked a soothing touch over the elevated scar tissue the way one pets a wounded creature, your gentle caress painting over the large claw mark that marked him years ago and left him cursed.

Walter followed the movement of your hand. His chest sinking with a low roar, his cock twitched and swelled inside your protesting canal while he remained immobilised and kept himself sheltered in the warmth of your sanctuary.

“Last night,” he finally spoke, his voice soft yet drenched with hesitation while his eyes dropped to stare into nothing for a shy moment. “Last night, when I turned... I… killed someone…”

Your heart clenched in anguish along with the seams of your cunt. All the hurt that flowed in Walter’s blood now mingled into yours, ascending your body from the spot where you were coupled.

What you wanted most of all was not to run. No. You desired to suck the poison tainting his veins and swallow it instead, unable to bring yourself to do anything but love him more than you did earlier.

Spreading your legs further to each side of his hips, you moved closer and wrapped your arms around him. Nails biting into his muscular back you clutched him tightly, making a firm statement of your unwillingness to spite him for his actions.

Because, even a beast needs to be protected and cared for.

* Disclaimer: I don’t own Night Hunter/Nomis or Walter Marshall * Dividers by @firefly-graphics

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #walter marshall #Werewolf!Henry Cavill #night hunter #walter marshall x reader

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oceanid-writes · 3 years

Text

Water and Wine (Yandere Yelena x Reader)

Pairing: Yandere Yelena x Female Reader

Author’s Note: This is my first full fanfic ever, so if anyone has feedback pls lmk!! Just a reminder that since this is technically my first fic, it’s likely not perfect, and please be respectful of that when reading. Additionally, this is a work of fiction and I do not condone any of the actions in this story. I write about different and dark topics to express my imagination and develop character ideas.

This piece is for the Too Hot To Fuck collab hosted by @captainmcslashypaws

Summary: Yelena’s been pining after you, even though the feeling isn’t mutual. With your horrible behaviour, the nice dinner she’s planned has been ruined. You understand she has to punish you for that, right?

Warnings: Non-con, yandere behaviour, drowning, waterboarding, dark themes, smut.

Word Count: 1.2k

The cold hard table slaps your face as you feel yourself being forced onto it again. You can taste the blood running down your face, your teeth chipping with every crack. You can see the tablecloth beginning to turn red under you. This is the fifth, maybe sixth time she’s slammed your face against the table.

“You dumb bitch.” She seethes, yanking you back up by your scalp. It hurts, it hurts badly, but seeing her loom over you with that murderous look on her face replaces everything in you with pure, unfiltered fear.

“Yelena, please,” You plead, hoping to resonate with something inside her. “I don’t know why you’re doing this to me! I know you’re an anti-Marylean volunteer, I know about your mission to Paradis, to help the Yeagers. I don’t get it- I- why are you doing this to me?”

She’s taller than you, much taller, and you’re painfully aware of the height difference and she’s getting closer when she gestures between you to sit down at the table. It seems like she once had it set up for a fancy dinner, with what used to be wine bottles and wine glasses now smashed upon the floor. You wouldn’t want to have dined with her knowing what you know now either way.

Suddenly, she the expression on her face turns neutral. “I think,” She says slowly, “I may have been getting ahead of myself.” You’re thankful that your half-mad kidnapper is willing to talk, talk, and stop grinding your face away. What only happened minutes ago was enough to give you scarring nightmares. “I guess that maybe you haven’t recognized that I’ve been pining after you.” She says suddenly.

What? Pining after you? But you have a boyfriend and-

“I shouldn’t have made assumptions about your… abilities to pick up your surroundings, which I also believe you lack in various other areas, but I can’t deny it stung seeing you with him.”

You know Yelena’s talking about your boyfriend, in the Garrison regiment. You can only pray he’s ok.

“What do you want from me?” You ask, leaning back in your seat to distance yourself from her. She’s terrifying, glowering at you, and then her face suddenly twists into a sharp smile.

“I can come up with a few things I’d like.”

You sit there and stare back blankly, waiting for her first words. She watches you carefully, then throws her head back and begins to laugh.

“At first I just wanted to drink and converse with you, but at this point, I want to take the pace a little quicker.” What is she saying? When you don’t react immediately, she settles back into her seat, still keeping her grin.

“It should be obvious I want to fuck you.” You sit there silently, unmoving, watching her.

“I’m not having sex with you. You’re insane.” You say slowly.

“Maybe,” She shrugs, beginning to stand up. “But you’ll do what I want or I’ll punish you.”

Instead of walking to where you are, Yelena moves towards a large mahogany cabinet at the far end of the room. She pulls out a large canister of water, a piece of cloth, and a human sized board, with a long buckle across the middle. She moves past you to lay the board down onto the table, and sets the water canister on the ground. Finally, cloth in hand, she turns to you.

It’s disturbing how quiet she is, standing there silently while her dark eyes bore into you. All of a sudden, she lifts you up and slams you down and onto the board, making sure to fasten you down right away.

“Hm,” Yelena murmurs. “I think you need to be taught a lesson,”

The last thing you see is a flash of short blond hair before the piece of cloth is forced over your face aggressively. You feel water begin to pour over your face, and your lungs begin to burn. You’re blindly drowning, you’re burning up alive, and all the while you scream.

As soon as the wave of pain comes, it stops, and only the cloth is left on your face.

“Yelena-” You wheeze, still gasping for air. She only shushes you and tightens the strap.

“Apologies, but I had to do that,” You know she’s lying. From the sound of her voice, she seems like she’s enjoying this. “You should understand that this is how I treat bad behaviour from you.”

You stay silent and tense up, as you begin to feel your shirt unbutton.

“This is going to feel good, don’t worry,” Yelena coos, her long fingers working quickly on you.

You feel her lips brush against your skin, peppering you with kisses as she moves down to your chest. She smiles at your nipples, and begins to nip at them. It feels good, in an awful and sick way. The same woman who tried to drown you was now leaving love bites all over your body, and you hate it so as a latch ditch effort you send the best sharp kick you can muster to her crotch. It lands, and for a second she yelps and jolts off you.

For a second, you feel good, until you remember that you’re the one tied down to the board.

Yelena lets out a quiet kind of laugh, before you hear even more clothing being removed. But this time it isn’t yours.

“It’s a good thing I decided to wear the strap today,” She says, and you can’t help but feel scared.

“Now I can fuck you and punish you at the same time.”

You squirm and squirm until you feel your pants being torn off, and something both hard and cold at your entrance. Yelena’s large hand rests on your upper thigh, and within seconds, you feel a thrust and your body being invaded by something too big. It hurts sitting there inside you, and it feels worse when you try to move.

And then, you begin to feel the water trickling over the cloth again, and a burning sensation returns to your lungs. All the while, Yelena begins to move and thrusts inside you. You scream your throat raw, but all Yelena does is laugh and moan.

“You’re so- urgh,” She pants, ignoring your noises. “Finally you’re being good for me.”

Water begins to fill you out even deeper, and you gargle your screams. She laughs even harder, and you feel as if you’re dying. She stops the water, but keeps moving inside you as you lie there coughing. Her bare thighs move against yours, and finally, she slows to a stop. She pulls out, and you hear clothing rustle in front of you.

Yelena pulls the cloth off your face, and leans into you with a kiss. You begin to sob uncontrollably, and she unties you. You have no energy to move or do anything but cry and attempt to thrash around. You know you look like a gutted fish, left on a hook to finish dying.

Yelena’s unreadable face begins to soften at your expense, and she sits on the table next to you, beginning gently caressing your face.

“I may have gotten overexcited,” She says, pulling you closer to her as she pets your head. You hate her. “But I had to break you before I brought you home.”

And just like that, the fear you thought was starting to melt away begins to enter you again. Deep inside, you can’t shake the feeling that the horrible experience you just had wasn’t going to be a one time thing.

#yandere yelena #yelena #yelena x reader #yelena aot #yelena snk #yandere snk #snk #yandere aot #aot #toohottofuckcollab #pining #yandere x you #yandere #yandere fic

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ayamturd · 3 years

Text

job│punz

summary: every time punz gets hurt, you’re always there to patch him up; however, this time is different, and fearful truths come to light

warnings: injury descriptions, death discussions, angst to fluff

pairing: (requested) in-game punz

a/n: first punz fic! i’ll admit i don’t watch much of punz but love his character’s themes and intricacies nonetheless

wc: (1.3k) - m.list

“OW- Take it easy, will you?”

“Well if you weren’t such an idiot, it wouldn’t hurt as much.” You grunted as you pulled on the gauze again, Punz wincing from the tight wrap before clutching your arm, trying to steady himself from the pain.

In spite of the late hour, you were wide awake and seething to say the least. The bedroom was hot, the air thick in tension and the space warm. You were both sweating in the heat, yet held different reasons besides for the enclosed temperature.

Punz was sat on the edge of the bed, his shirt off as he panted from the small aches and stings that covered his entire body, the main damage residing on his chest.

You, however, were livid to his condition and withheld an internal rage from the fact. Standing between his open legs, you finished off the final tie of the wrap around his upper body and right shoulder.

Reaching for the small bowl on top of the night stand, you wringed the wet towel and moved to further wipe away the stains of blood that still oozed from his various cuts below his collarbone. It was then he decided to speak up.

“Y/n,” he called softly.

“Don’t, Punz. Just don’t,” you murmured, your attention solely on cleaning his wounds as you interrupted whatever weak-ass apology he was going to try for. He went silent from your soft, yet underlying harsh tone, and clenched his jaw to work through the burning stings of his wounds.

Once you finished, you then forced another healing potion into his hands for him to physically heal from the smaller cuts, the more severe one already dosed and bandaged. Punz swallowed down the elixir in one go before trying to talk again.

“Y/n, I’m only trying to apologize here.”

With your back turned towards him, you avoided his gaze and worked to clean his blood off your fingers, the red stain caking your hands and bordering your fingernails dry. You shook your head with a scoff.

“Well stop trying then, because I don’t want to hear it right now.”

There was a slight pause, your words hanging in the silence as you fiddled with your hands further to distract yourself from the whirlwind of emotions that roared within you. Although you couldn’t see him, Punz bit down on his tongue before shaking his head in disbelief, a humorless laugh leaving him.

“Why are you being so difficult?” You spun and turned towards him, your eyes narrow with a scrunched nose that did nothing but emphasize how much you were fuming. Shoulders tense, you practically spat at him.

“Difficult?”

Punz rolled his eyes and started to push himself up with a grimace, his movements slow as he tried to match your height in the heated argument that, no doubt, was about to ensue. You stepped forwards in unconscious fear that he could hurt himself, but physically restrained yourself from taking another step once seeing his own irritated expression.

“Look,” Punz stated, his good arm lifting with a wave, “I’m sorry that things didn’t go as planned, but it’s not like I chose to get hurt.”

Your mouth dropped from the underplayed account and you crossed your arms together, leaning back to confront his false assumption.

“Hurt? Hurt??” you began to yell. “You stumbled into this house in the middle of the night and I find you dying on the floor, passed out in your own blood, barely breathing as is and you have the audacity to say hurt?”

Looking down, Punz gripped his own arms to contain his unfiltered anger, muttering out his feeble defense. “That’s an extreme way of saying it, sure.”

Eyes widening in shock, you chucked the wet rag into his face and closed your fists tightly, them starting to shake in rage from his words. Punz was quick to pull the towel off his face after it smacked him, but his own anger slowly subsided when he saw how outraged you truly seemed.

“How fucking dare you,” you growled, “think that there’s any extreme way of stating the fact that I had to find practically dead, half way towards death’s door, with no warning ahead of time.”

You continued before he could intervene, your voice raising louder to the point where you were screaming raw.

“You left me! Without saying anything of where you were or what the hell you were doing, and it comes down to you almost loosing your life for me to get a half-assed excuse that you’re working for Dream?!”

Punz stepped forwards, no longer able to contain himself and sit through your cries and slanders of truth. Despite towering over you, you stood your ground firmly and stared straight into his eyes, them meeting your own in the same exasperated and inflamed intensity.

“You should already know, y/n! The job comes first! The job always comes first!”

“Then what about me!?”

He froze, flinching from the question and freezing in shock to the connotations your meant. You, too, were startled by your outburst, unable to comprehend what you said before you deflated in anguish.

“Then what about me?” you repeated again, voice cracked as the fire now faded and left the ashes of a burned ache in place of fury.

“Are you really too thick to realize that I don’t care about the job, about the damn money or even whatever Dream has to say? All I ever wanted was for you to be safe, to know that there won’t be a day that I sit here, alone, just to wait for you never to return.”

Tears pooled while your eyes became glossed over, your lips quivering from the suppressed thoughts that have haunted you for months at a time now free from its cage. You glared down at your feet, unable to look at him without hurting more.

Punz could only gape at you in incredulity, his own eyes pricking from emotion.

“You’re out there, doing God know’s what while I’m stuck here waiting on you. I can’t- I can’t keep doing this, Punz.”

Shaking your head softly, you closed your eyes in defeat, your tears now trailing down your cheeks as you turned away from him. Punz moved to comfort you, but his approach forced a sob out of you, your cries soon filling the room.

Clinging to yourself hopelessly, you whispered in words of loss, “I won’t if it means I’m inevitably going to loose you.”

Immediately, he pulled you into him and began to cradle your head into his chest, the physical pain he once felt now numb to his desire and need to hold you close. He shushed you gently as your cries became louder, and wrapped his arms securely around you.

“Hey hey hey, calm down, calm down. Just listen, babe. Listen to my heart.”

After an extended period of time had passed and your cries had died down, now exhaling breaths of exhaustion from the fit, Punz bent down to kiss your hair firmly while you clung onto him.

“I’m never going to leave you,” he mumbled, his voice light yet earnest in full. “If its the last thing I’ll ever do, I promise you I’ll always be here, I’m not going anywhere.”

Sniffing faintly, you pulled your head away from his chest and peered up at him, your red eyes searching desperately into his for a truth to his reassurance.

“How can you be so sure?” Punz titled your head to meet his lips, kissing you tenderly and whispering his vow close to your skin.

“No amount of pay can tear me from you, I swear to it.”

#dream smp x reader #dream smp x you #punz x reader #punz x you #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #dsmp x reader #dsmp x you #punz x gn!reader

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lubdubsworld · 4 years

Text

Falling for you ( Falling from grace) Jungkook

Read Chapter 1 here

Read Chapter 2 here

Rated : 18 +

Warning : . Fuck buddies? Or rather enemies that have sex. They just really hate each other but also can’t keep their hands off each other. Fair warning this has no plot. its just them being idiots .

Chapter 3

“We’re not doing this here again....this is going to be a one time thing. ” I panted into his mouth as he pressed me up against the inside of the supply closet. Jungkook hummed, fingers making quick work of my work pants, yanking them down fast. I stumbled out of them, gasping when he grabbed the back of my thighs, lifting my leg up to wrap around his waist, rolling his hardness into me.

“That's probably fair. I can’t think straight when you’re around me at the office...you know....makes me think of a thousand things i could do to you...” He leaned into me, kissing along my neck, sucking and biting the thin skin before gently laving it with his tongue.

“ A thousand? Really?” I laughed despite myself.

“Sure....your perky little breasts for example. The way your nipples tend to poke out when the Ac’s a little too cold.... They look like they can cut glass...” He cupped my breasts through my blouse, thumbing at the tip till I felt my head roll back, hitting the door with a thud. “ I want to kiss and lick and suck on them....that's three things right there... I can keep going if you want....”

I groaned.

“thought you wanted me to suck you off.” i muttered. He shrugged.

“Changed my mind. I’m gonna fuck you just like this.”

I flinched, when he found the edge of my panties, lightly tracing circles on the fabric....

“May I?” He smirked and it took me a second to realize he was going to tear it off me. A jolt of shock , dosed with desire shot straight through my center and I swelled and ached in all the worst places.

“I’m gonna take that as an yes.” He grinned then, eyes piercing through the damp strands of his hair and I felt my heart take a dive, a sudden unexpected swoop of raw unfiltered affection.

The shock of feeling something positive towards Jungkook made my breath catch in shock.

What the actual fuck....

But before I could fully chastise myself for the errant thought, he was yanking on my lace panty, tearing it clean off my thighs and I flinched at how much it hurt, the fabric leaving little welts on the swell of my flesh. He grabbed my thighs, prompting me to hope on and i grinned. Wall sex with Jungkook was always a great experience.

I watched as he spread his legs a little, bracing himself against the floor so he could move his hips a bit more. He was pressed right up against me, his torso holding me up against the wall as he used one hand to fumble with his belt, unzipping himself yanking his cock out.

“Condom...back pocket...” He grunted and I struggled to slip my fingers into the skin tight slack, pulling out his wallet and grabbing the small foil packet. I tore it open, pressing the square strip to the flushed, leaking head of his kick before sliding the condom down to the base . I stroked him a little and I flinched at the extra ribbed texture of the condom.... That was going to rub my insides raw...

He grunted.

“Hands on my shoulder, babe...brace yourself.” He said shortly and I obeyed quickly , vaguely flushing at the babe.... It was the usual kind of petname he used.

Giving me no time to adjust , he lined himself up against me and it took me a second to realize that the momentary distraction in my thoughts had made me go a little dry.

And yeah, Jungkook’s dick wasn’t the kind of dick you wanted to take dry. I opened my mouth to ask him to wait but it was just a second too late.

My eyes flew open in shock as he fucked right up into me with no preamble or finesse really. The shock of being speared open when I wasn’t fully prepared made my breath catch in my throat and I nearly chocked. Fuck, I kept forgetting how much sex with Jungkook just hurt sometime.....

But it was the good kind of hurt, I thought , following his lead and wrapping both legs more securely around his waist , letting him fix our positions against the door with some modicum of stability.

“Oh fuck, you’re so fucking tight today....” He groaned into my shoulder, bracing himself again and gripping me harder, lifting me up and fucking in again, this time with just a little bit more force. I was right about the condom, it felt so abrasive against my insides and somehow, that made me wetter .

I liked it when it hurt....Why else would I be so attracted to Jeon fucking Jungkook.

He gripped my hair tighter, forcing me to stare at him.

“Seeing you with Namjoon hyung.... i didn’t like it.” He bit out aggressively, reaching up to bury one hand in the back of my hair. He yanked hard, enough to make me yelp and I bit my lips, trying to remember that we were in the office...that anyone walking outside could hear if I didn’t keep it down.

Jungkook rolled his hips up into me and it felt like he was hitting my center my entire body shaking from the sensation....he was so fucking big , I wanted to cry... He moved again , alternating his deep thrusts with a gentle rolling motion and that sexy little swivel, exactly the way I had wanted Namjoon to the previous night.... But he hadn’t because he wasn’t Jungkook...No one could be Jungkook....

“Fuck... Please...” I gripped his shoulders hard, hating the expensive suit between my fingers and his skin. God i wanted to touch him so bad.

“Don’t know who I was punishing that day, not fucking you through...not cumming in your filthy little cunt...Nothing I like more than filling you up, dollface, you know that right...love the way you look when I spill into you...so fucked out and debauched like someone ran a fucking train on you....” He was panting, breathless. I gripped his hair , loving how the long wet strands felt in my hands. I pulled hard trying to move my hips to meet his but it was impossible to keep up with his speed.

“Say my name..” He whispered roughly , kissing my chin and then tugging on my lip with his and I panted it out...muffled and slightly garbled.

“Properly.... Tell me who you belong to.” He snarled, the grip in my hair tightening and he pushed into me even harder and I felt my legs quiver .

“ You... I... you.. belong to you... Jungkook... “ I managed and he chuckled.

“Namjoon hyung is somewhere in the building..... “ He grinned against my skin, licking and mouthing across my jaw and I felt so sexy and dirty at the wetness as it dried on my skin. Jungkook continued, breathing each word out into my skin in the wake of his wet , wet tongue “ He’s sitting in his office thinking he has some sort of chance with you but he doesn’t know...doesn’t know how fucking dirty and wet you get for me...”

I clenched around him and it was humiliating how much it turned me on...this toxic trait of his, the way he seemed to loathe me every second of the day and yet somehow believed I was his...only his...his to fuck and his to hate.,...

My thighs ached from being held up so long, my back was definitely a little frayed from being pushed against the wall and I could feel the tell tale signs of orgasm ....

And yet somehow he was still keeping up the pace and I finally looked at him, right into his eyes, and suddenly,. without warning it was the raw, aching want and desire in his eye that tipped me over, wringing my orgasm straight out of me.

The shock of it blew me away. I’d never cum so fast before. And definitely never because of how he looked. Feeling my heart palpitate inside me, I punched his shoulders. Jungkook didn’t slow down, faking me right through the crescendo of pleasure, ramming in harder now and with more force because it was his own pleasure he was chasing and I could feel my muscles scream , my mind supplying helpfully that walking was going to be a fucking struggle after this.

He grunted as he finished, spilling into the condom . He was trembling a little and if it weren’t for the inhuman strength in his gorgeously muscled thighs, we would have crashed to the floor in a wet and messy puddle of sweat and cum by now.

I stared at the opposite wall, feeling entirely too many emotions ....emotions that felt incredibly incredibly out of place , being directed at a guy who didn’t even like me.

I had to get out of here.

“Get off me.” I panted, shoving him just a bit too hard and he pulled out at once, clearly surprised . My body protested the harsh movement and I felt my insides throb, the pleasure beginning to ebb and being replaced by an almost unbearable soreness. I had to bite down on his shoulder for a second, just to muffle the agony.

“Jesus , give me a minute...” He panted, lowering me to the ground. I pushed him again, my legs giving out under me and I crashed to the floor.

Jungkook’s eyes went wide in shock and concern and it was so out of place on his face that I felt my heart stutter.

“Are you alrigh-?”He made to reach for me but I kicked out, ignoring the pain throbbing through my body. My foot connected with his shin and he grunted.

“Ow...what the fuck , Areum..” He hissed, stumbling a bit. I ignored him , looking for my clothes. Jungkook was getting rid of the condom and buckling himself up. When he moved to help me up again I pushed his hand away.

“Don’t touch me fuck...” I snapped, grabbing the torn fabric of my underwear and stuffing it into my jacket pocket. I grabbed my work pants, hopping to get into them as fast as I could.

“You literally just came so why the fuck are you acting like this?” He glared at me and I frowned.

“Acting like what... Isn’t this what we do Jungkook? Shoot daggers at each other when we’re not fucking?”

He growled.

“Fuck, I keep forgetting what a prickly little bitch you are....” He sneered and I finished buttoning up my pants.

“And you’re a fucking perv... This is our office. I’m supposed to be respectable employee here not a-” I stopped, shaking my head .

He grabbed my elbow , pulling hard.

“Not a what? A slut? “ He smirked, pecking my forehead, “ don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

I shoved him again.

“Never again. “ I said firmly, “ We do it in your palce or mine. I don’t wanna be called a -”

“Don’t wanna be called Jeon Jungkook’s personal whore...although thats exactly what you are.... Got it.” He looked entirely too smug as he leaned against the wall smirking as he watched me struggle with the door.

I glared at him.

“This is why I should have just gone to Namjoon. At least he calls me his baby. Not a whore.”

The smile slipped off his face with alarming speed.

“What the fuck did you just say?” He growled and I shrugged.

“You heard me....”

“Stop using my fucking brother to make me jealous...It doesn’t work. It pisses me off because he’s a great guy and we all know that you can’t get off with anyone but me. ” He snarled and I rolled my eyes.

“Don’t fucking flatter yourself. I like him. He’s a nice guy.” I said sharply and I wasn’t lying. Namjoon was a nice guy. A great guy. I was just fucked up and did not like nice guys.

“Then why the fuck were you literally gagging for it when I dragged you in here?” He glared and I shrugged.

“Because you’re right. You’re a good fuck and I’m just gonna keep using you until I settle down with a nice, handsome guy like your brother.”

Jungkook smirked.

“It’s so sexy, the way you mouth off at me even when you’re struggling to stand up because I dicked you down too hard.....Just wait, next time you won’t be walking for days. Might even whip out your friends, those handcuffs. Leave you chained to my bed for a couple of days. ”

I gave him the finger before slipping out of the closet.

Author note : if you guys have any requests for scenes or kinks send it in ..... 🥵🥵🥵 I'm loving this universe and will probably work on it for a while.....

#bts fanfics #bts #jungkook #bts smut #bts fics #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #bts fanfic #jungkook fics

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myelocin · 4 years

Text

four walls, wilted flowers, and a ring | hanamaki t.

synopsis: it hurts not because of the lie, but because the love you had built with him was as real as the pain from the truth you come across.

characters: hanamaki takahiro, you

genre: angst warnings: not rlly infidelity but sort of? iDK TEARS

wc: 1700+

a/n: psa i am not over him i’m just in my 2 week petty mode where i am deciding to spice up my au with some angst | tnx 4 d song lena u are partly at fault w this fic

“so is this it?”

“i don’t know,” you hear yourself answer him. it echoes much louder than you initially anticipated so it’s in that moment where you decide that you don’t like the silence very much at all.

the truth is neither of you really want for things to be it. the pictures on the wall still tell you that you’re home. takahiro’s few sizes too big character slippers that are still hanging from your feet still has the same floppy ears he jokingly pointed at one minute, then bought in the next anyway. the plates in the sink are still a set for two and you know the spoon and fork on top of his plate are still the mismatched ones you know he’s grown attached to.

“i know that if you say something right now then i’ll just end up coming back to you,” you whisper again, and this time you allow yourself to break.

you hear takahiro shift in his seat, but even as the bottom of his chair scratches against the wood floor you remember him sweeping clean just this morning, the absence of his arms around you has the room feeling cold. the weight of reality finally strikes you as the bite of the air nips at your cheeks, and with your head hung low, you come to fully decide that you really hate the silence.

his silence ringing feels too loud.

it’s cold because it’s winter, is the thought that comes into your head as you try to reason with yourself. a minute passes; then two, three, and five before you relent and sigh because the excuses you try to convince yourself with aren’t really working at all.

your hands staying warm against the cold is just proof of the fact that you’ve always loved the cold, so there wasn’t really much use in trying to conjure up any more excuses.

you know that the room feels cold because as you think of the ring and the unfamiliar initials engraved inside, the home you’re in suddenly just feels like a house. only the second floor room of the flower shop somebody owned downstairs.

the photos on the wall doesn’t feel like it’s in place anymore. when you remember the gleam of gold against the box takahiro buried at the very bottom drawer underneath all his winter coats, your fingers itch to select a few frames on the wall and pack it in a suitcase. you think you hear him sigh another apology, and from his reflection that you catch on the surface of the window you see that he’s rubbing his face on his hands before eventually looking back up and looking at your profile.

you swallow and close your eyes, your eyes cast down and staring at the pattern of the wood on the floor.

twenty four hours ago hanamaki takahiro held you in his arms and said a joke that he’s said a thousand times, but despite that he felt like he was it. twenty four hours later—now—when you hear him utter another apology at the same time the ring you know isn’t for you flashes in your mind for the nth time that night, you feel like this is it.

when his hands settle on your shoulder, you feel his resolve that’s been trembling all the way to his fingertips.

he says your name once, his voice soft. when you give him silence in return, you don’t hear your name for a second time because you feel him move closer to you instead, his head on your shoulder and arms suddenly so tight around you.

there’s something about the sound of takahiro crying that has your heart breaking, but even as your hands itch to move from your lap and thread through his trembling ones, something in you stops you in your tracks.

“how did we get here?” you ask, but takahiro doesn’t answer and instead clutches onto you even tighter.

truth be told he knows that it’s not just the ring you found hidden at the very back of his drawer that caused this. it wasn’t the fact that he kept his marriage hidden from you for this long either.

he knows that when you refuse to look at him and instead focus on the photo of the two of you from two years ago: keys in hand and the a future hanging in your expressions in the form of smiles does he realize that you’re broken because of this.

it’s because he built a life with you. spoke promises of a future he intended on keeping but ultimately couldn’t keep because of an unfinished past. he knows you’re crying because you love him to the point of hanging photographs of the milestones the two of you have conquered on the walls in bright colors. the ring he promised putting on your finger, still absent on your hand that sits naked and cold on your lap.

his fingers twitch and he yearns to inch forward and thread them through his. it’s cold, takahiro thinks. he never liked the cold. your hands are always warm despite the cold, he remembers, so his fingers twitch again.

the sound of you sucking in a shaky breath reminds him of the boundary that’s between the two of you now. he knows he has no right to cross it; not after this, so takahiro stays still and moves back to keep his distance.

“i’m sorry,” he says, a little clearer and a lot more honest. at this point there really is nothing but honesty in his words, but there aren’t excuses for the past you found only buried under a pile instead of swept away either.

something in his heart breaks when you still refuse to look at him.

“i know that you’re sorry,” you answer after a while.

the tap of the water from the faucet hits the sink, and you find yourself thinking that even the smallest sounds in the room seem to echo. your heart isn’t pounding, but it beats in the way that leaves an ache instead of a flutter. the photo of the two of you stares back at you—in full color.

but when you look up and finally face takahiro, it’s like the world is stripped of hue and the room dips into greyer end of the spectrum.

he always had grey eyes too, you think. and in a way, it’s fitting. grey eyes in a grey turned world only meant that at least there was one thing constant and honest.

you see another apology swirling within them before he opens his mouth. when he chokes out another apology and his grey eyes mist with something that looks like droplets of tears, you finally break with him because the resolve in your heart feels like an ending.

“i fucking know, so stop saying sorry,” you cry. “i know.”

there’s nothing more you want to do but hold his face in between your hands, or let him press his forehead against yours when you’d cry, but you hold yourself back. the sounds of radiohead’s creep loops for the fifth time from your phone lying face down in the kitchen table.

“i don’t belong here,” is sung again and again. the music rises louder, and even if the speaker is muffled by the placemat and the sound is distorted because of the glasses around it, you hear it.

do i still belong here? you think.

“you’re so very special,” takahiro picks up and he exhales another sob because he’s never heard a statement as true as such. his fingers twitch and he knows he wants to reach out, but he keeps himself in check when he notices you shift away from him.

“it’s always going to be you,” he says and the truth you see in the grey eyes against the black and white world look like it’s the only truth in the moment.

when you stare back at him, you want to nod because you believe him. you know the sound of his truth from his lie—and this—takahiro staring at you, tears spilling down his cheeks and eyes so red and raw, you know that this is his truth.

“i’m sorry,” is his truth, but before you could soften the thrum in your heart you know that as much as this is his truth—the ring and a past hidden instead of ended is also a part of him.

a part of his whole truth.

“i know you are,” you answer, shaking your head. “but i just can’t stand you right now.”

“i wish i was special,” plays and the seconds before the drop you let yourself think about how these were just lyrics you sang along to a few minutes ago. takahiro across you was just the boyfriend who still had plans to finish before he proposed to you forty eight hours ago.

the kitchen was just a room you cooked meals in and not the four walls that are witness to the heartbreak and tragedy that is takahiro’s whole, unfiltered truth.

you close your eyes when he speaks again, and when you open them you do two things as you push yourself up and away from the chair. the first is that you tell him that you just need some time. and the second, as you round the corner and make your way to the bedroom, you make a conscious effort to not look at the vase of flowers he hasn’t changed in a little over two weeks now.

at the moment you just can’t stand to see the wilted roses.

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aymayzing · 4 years

Text

Wip Wednesday

@blarrghe and @hawkeish tagged me, thank you so much!! 💕 This excerpt is from a fic I've been working on for longer than I'd like to admit but I am finally about to finish it.

This is a letter from the last chapter. I thought about posting only a part of it but decided it works best in full. It's pure, unfiltered angst, for that I apologize, especially to Dorian

Warnings: mentions of death and long sickness

Ma vhenan, my beloved Dorian,

I wrote many difficult letters since becoming the Inquisitor, many of them informing people of the death of a loved one. This is no such letter but it’s far closer than I would’ve liked it to be. You also know how difficult it is for me to complain, draw attention to whatever hardships I’m going through, so writing this makes me very uncomfortable but I promised to write and not hide anything. Forgive me for skipping the pleasantries and immediately jumping into grim things but I don’t think there’s anything I can write beforehand to soften the blow.

The Anchor is getting worse. Much worse, I’m afraid. You knew it was not getting better and I kept you up to date on my condition but I did not have the chance to write to you since venturing into the Deep Roads. It’s there that I started getting worse. I don’t know why — maybe the Anchor reacted with the raw lyrium, maybe it reacted with something else down there, maybe it was completely unrelated. I don’t know and I don’t think we’ll ever be able to figure it out without Solas. But the fact remains — the Anchor’s getting worse and so am I. The pain is worse, I have — well, I don’t even know how to call it. Outbreaks? Attacks? Pyrotechnic displays? The Anchor roars to life, overwhelming me with its magic. It feels a lot like getting hit with lightning but it crawls under my skin and there is just something so off, so raw about the Anchor’s magic. It’s also growing larger, taking up more of my hand, making it harder for me to use it. It’s harder to sleep, to eat. Vivienne says the magic gets stronger every time and she warns me that one day it will be too much for my heart to handle.

It will kill me, Dorian. We don’t know when exactly, but it will be sooner rather than later — the attacks already weaken me, sometimes knock me unconscious.

Dorian, I am writing to you to let you know what’s going to happen. I will go to the Exalted Council, make sure neither the Orlesians nor the Fereldans get their hands on the organization I helped build pretty much from scratch. I will tie up all the loose ends, ensure Inquisition’s business is in order and after that I will probably go back to the clan.

This letter is the hardest one I’ve ever written since with all my heart I want to beg you to drop everything and return to me as soon as possible but I know I have no right to expect anything like this from you. You never signed up for this, for being with a dying man.

I was named after my grandfather, do you know that? I don’t remember if I ever mentioned it. I never met him, since he died a few years before I was born. He was gravely sick, slowly withering away. My grandmother barely speaks of it. Babae says she never quite got over it. She was taking care of him for over a year, watching him get sicker and weaker, the sickness slowly rendering him unable to walk, to talk, to eat. No one really speaks much of it. They tried telling me about him but they always use the phrases “before”, “once he was”, “he used to be”. All their good memories of him are stained by those last months, always at the back of their mind when they speak of him. I don’t want that to happen to us. I don’t want you to think of me and see me broken and bed-bound. Most of all, I don’t want you to think that you need to be here for it, because you don’t. It might be easier on you, you know? To stay away from it, not have to see any of it. You’d get to keep all the good memories. I would not hold it against you, vhenan, no one would. You’ve important things to do in Tevinter and I don’t want to drag you away from it for whoever knows how long, just to watch me die.

So know that what you do is entirely up to you and whatever you choose, you have my full support, as always. You can come to Skyhold, meet me at the Exalted Council, not leave Tevinter at all. We can meet for a moment to say our goodbyes, you can stay with me or we can keep writing. We can even not do that. Whatever suits you best. Even though it happens against my will, it’s me who’s leaving you behind and it only feels fair to do that on your terms. Whatever you do, I love you, nothing will ever change that.

In case I don’t get another chance to say it, I wanted to tell you that I don’t know how I would’ve survived the last almost four years without you. Your love and support, your constant, unwavering believe in me, your humor - it all kept me sane through the madness after the Conclave and I will forever cherish the day I walked into the Redcliffe Chantry and saw you. You will never know how much our witty banter, our evenings in the tavern, our nights in our bed meant to me. I’d explain it if I had the words, but I don’t. You’re so smart and beautiful and loving, I sometimes caught myself wondering whatever did I do to deserve you? A part of me still wonders, I guess, especially now that I know all the pain I’ll cause you. I love you with all of my heart, all of me, Dorian, and I will always do so.

I hope you won’t grieve too much. I know I would’ve been absolutely devastated if anything happened to you and I am praying that you will take it better. I hope you are more prepared for it — you’ve seen me almost die so often I’ve lost count. Maybe after living so long with the knowledge that something might happen to me anytime, you won’t be so surprised to actually see me go. But even if that won't be the case, I am begging you to not get too caught up on it. Don’t blame yourself — there is nothing you could’ve done, there is nothing anyone could’ve done. You being here with me and not in Tevinter wouldn’t have changed anything. None of this is your fault, none of this could’ve gone differently. ‘What ifs’ will just hurt you — don’t think about them. I am so proud to know you are changing Tevinter and that I somewhat influenced you to try. I hope you’ll keep working on it — if there’s anyone who can succeed, it’s you, with your belief in your homeland, your love for it and your resoluteness.

I don’t know how to finish this letter. I already mentioned everything I needed to. You know everything now and I am waiting for your decision, whatever it will be and however you choose to pass it onto me. Whatever happens, I wouldn’t have traded the time we’ve had together for anything. I love you, Dorian. And I am sorry.

Yours forever

Lysanen Lavellan

I'm tagging @artemis-personified @oxygenforthewicked @mywitchcultblr @kirkwallgremlin @tessa1972

#wip wednesday #angst #lys is like I know you love me but I kinda still don't believe it #so I will make myself scarce to make you feel better (even though that will NOT make Dorian feel better)#they're both dumb and in love and there're too many bad things happening to them (I know it's my fault but I still feel bad for them)#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dorian pavus #pavellan #lys x dorian #dorian x inquisitor #may writes

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sam-winchester-admiration-league · 4 years

Text

SPN Series Finale: First Watch

Well, the tears haven’t dried yet, as I am writing this and the first gush of emotions are often the most honest and unfiltered and raw, so those are all the things this post will be, I just hope I can be coherent enough to piece all of my first impressions of the finale in here.

I will, obviously, watch it again. Maybe I will start from season 1 and re-watch all of it again. I will be nitpicky then and I will be unhappy with some things maybe but for now, I hurt in the most wonderful way, if that makes sense, as I just finished with the finale. ‘Supernatural’ has been such a gigantic part of my life for so many years now and I feel so grateful for that one friend who introduced me to these two boys, all those years ago. To be honest, I have felt let down by the writers several times in the past seasons but there are so many things I love about this finale and I am eternally grateful for them. Onto the good things…

To begin with, I adore adore adore Sam so much, too much sometimes. I feel protective of him and I look up to him and I was so glad that the show gave him the life that he had always thought he wanted, the life that his mother had wanted him to have, the life that Dean wanted him to have. Am I sorry about Dean dying and them not ending up in some cosy senior citizens home together, like they had once planned to? Yes. But I am happy that Sam will have one less regret when he finally passed on. He tried the 'normal’ which had kept slipping through his fingers. And I am happy that Dean got the usual, regular hunter’s death. Hunters die in freakish mishaps; it need not always be an apocalypse- averting death. Dean died trying to save people and to hunt things. It is very much a glorious and honourable death, especially without Chuck’s puppet mastery at play. Of course, I still bawled my eyes out and I will bawl my eyes out every time I watch this final death of Dean Winchester because, guess what, I adore him too, so much, too much sometimes. And when that blasted metal spike went through his chest, I knew this was it and I felt like raging because why would you separate the two of them? But the love, the sheer love between these two characters- I don’t think I can ever encompass in words the magnitude of what these two share between them- in this scene! 'Supernatural’ is nothing but a celebration of this violent, bloody, messy, powerful, pure, true Love between the two Winchester brothers. Dean has proved, over and over again, in his narrative, to be the lead-commander of the League of Sam Winchester Admirers, has he not? So he says he’s proud and he says he loves Sam so much and he asks Sam to stay with him and he knows he will be in Sam’s heart everyday for as long as they stay apart, because obviously they would meet again.

And the scenes in Dean’s heaven are some of the most beautiful things this show has ever given us, IMO. When he shares a beer with Bobby and declares that this is almost perfect and Bobby just knows why it’s not perfect. “He’ll be along.” Bobby says and you know Dean’s peace of mind is yet to come. I loved the montage of Dean driving and Sam living out his life- the two of them hurtling, rushing closer and closer to one another. Time works differently in heaven and I’d like to think that Dean was separated from Sam for just about the time it took for him to take a long, leisurely drive with Baby. So they meet on that bridge. Had I wanted a final 'jerk/bitch’ exchange? Nah. It was perfect. I already knew what was in store for the two of them. They would admire the view from the bridge and they would go back to their place. Sam would make breakfast and Dean would be a slob. Sam would kick the washing machine and Dean would be elbows- deep in soap suds at the sink. Some days, they would visit friends and family and some days it would be just the two of them. Together. Forever. At peace.

_________________________

Admin Kathy: TDatta! I’m so happy to see you again. I’m so happy to see MIA fangirls return for the finale and sharing and basking in the afterglow of a beautiful finale. Thank for remembering us when you share your thoughts and passion for Supernatural.

#TDatta #Supernatural #15x20 #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #submission #Carry On

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lightsovermonaco · 4 years

Text

Bonfires (NSFW Max Verstappen + Reader)

My first Formula 1 fic! Listen, I know not everyone likes Max. If ya don’t, just don’t read it, thanks!

“There’s our champion!”

The Red Bull Racing team roared with cheers as Max approached the beach, his team gathered around a raging fire. You walked alongside him, beaming with pride. His win today had nearly secured him the championship; he only needed one more first place finish to clinch it. You had nearly jumped into his arms when he came back to the paddock, instead opting to a less intimate hug.

“Cheers to you, friend!” Daniel called, holding out a shot. Max grinned and swiped it from his teammate’s hand, downing it in the blink of an eye. He looked back at you, unfiltered joy in his eyes. Max grabbed your hand, dragging you towards the circle of bodies surrounding the fire.

Mechanics and engineers slapped him on the back, high fived him, and offered him shots. He took most of them, a buzz already starting to form. Unable to hold your thoughts in any longer, you went up on your tiptoes and kissed Max’s cheek. He froze, eyes going wide.

Max never showed any sort of public affection, not once in the two years you had been dating. He didn’t want anyone’s nose in his business. You couldn’t blame him for that. You weren’t a secret; the press knew about your relationship, but some things were better left private.

“I’m sorry,” You stammered, “I was just so proud of you and I couldn’t-”

He cut you off with a proper kiss, his friends whooping as he dipped you back. His tongue swiped over your lower lip once before he pulled away, face lit up with a smile. The world narrowed to just the two of you. You breathed him in, the alcohol on his breath mingling with the musk of his cologne.

“You have no idea how much that means to me,” Max murmured, swallowing thickly.

“Well then I guess I need to say it more then,” You replied, smiling softly.

Max laughed, leading you to a bench before the fire. “Glad you two finally decided to stop sucking face and join us,” Daniel teased, shooting you a wink. You winked back, absolutely giddy. Over the years, you and Daniel had become fast friends. He was the one that encouraged you to tell Max about your crush, knowing that Max had felt the same way.

When Max was distracted, Daniel raised a brow and clasped his hands together. His eyes flicked between you and Max, and you shook your head. You didn’t want to push him outside of his comfort zone too quickly. Daniel shrugged, then mouthed I’ll help.

Max slung an arm around your shoulder as he threw his head back and laughed at whatever Christian had said. It was a cackling, unusual sound that caught you off guard. Max was rarely so at ease; even less so in public. When you were alone, he had learned it was safe to let down his walls and let you see the raw, vulnerable parts of him, but anywhere else it was hard to get him to show any sliver of his true self.

But you saw Max in that laugh. Not Max the Formula 1 future world champion, but the Max you had fallen in love with. Your stomach fluttered, your focus entirely on the lines of his face crinkled with laughter. He took a swig from his red cup and finally noticed you staring.

“Can I help you?” He asked, blue eyes shining like the ocean a few meters away. You were vaguely aware of Daniel turning his attention to someone else, letting the two of you have a moment.

You glanced at the arm still around you. “You feeling alright?” You joked, trying to break the tension. You knew he was drunk, but you had barely had a sip yourself. One of you had to keep a clear head, or who knew what sort of trouble you two would wind up in.

“Of course I am,” He murmured, pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek. A flush crept into your cheeks, hidden from the others by the warm glow of the fire.

“Hey, lovebirds,” Daniel called. The two of you immediately glanced up at him, Daniel amused that his name calling worked. “The rest of us are heading out to the bar. Make sure you douse the fire before you head in for the night, yeah?”

“I’ll make sure of it,” You told him, adding a silent thank you. Daniel gave you a knowing grin before heading back to the house. Leave it to Daniel to be the perfect wingman.

You settled against Max’s shoulder, the crashing waves and crackling flames the only sound. The full moon hung low in the sky, casting a white glow over the water. You slid a hand to rest on Max’s thigh, heart pounding. Even years later, it never got quieter when you were around him.

His hand slipped from your shoulder to your hip, thumb slipping under your shirt to rub circles on your skin. Sparks zinged where skin met skin, sending a thrill up your spine.

Slipping into Dutch, he murmured, “Ik hou van je.” I love you.

Neither of you ever said ‘I love you’ in english. It became a game between the two of you to see who could find the most ridiculous words to express your love. You changed it up before nearly every race, and Max thought of it as a good luck ritual. The press loved it too, as it added yet another layer of mystery to your relationship.

Now wasn’t the time to play that game though. Max’s free hand cradled your chin, pulling your face up to his. Your lips parted slightly in anticipation, his gaze falling to your mouth as you whispered, “Ik hou van je.”

He crashed into you like waves on the shore, teeth and tongues clashing. Your hand danced along his thigh, his along your back. You didn’t care that anyone could look out and see the two of you. Your head was spinning, content to be wrapped up in Max forever.

“Closer,” Max murmured against your lips, strong hands gripping your thighs and pulling you into his lap to straddle him. Your fingers went to tangle in his hair, chest heaving. HIs lips left yours, tracing a path down your jaw.

“Should we move this party inside?” You asked, gasping when his teeth grazed your neck.

Max looked up at you with a wild grin. “I could take you right here.”

“Max!” You chided, heat rising to your cheeks. You knew he wouldn’t hesitate to make good on the promise, his hardness already pressing into you.

“What?” He asked, utterly innocent. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t want me to.” A hand found its way into your shorts, his touch teasingly light.

“I-” The breath was snatched from your lungs as he brushed your center. His head fell forward at the wetness soaking your panties. The fire had eddied to embers, leaving nothing but the moon lighting the planes of his face as he again looked at you. He may have been drunk, but the intent was clear in his eyes.

Max withdrew his hand, not heeding your protests. “What’ll it be? Out here,” He asked, hand cupping your ass, “Or at the house?”

The thought of sand in unsavory places was almost enough to kill the mood. You leaned in to nip at his lower lip. “Take me to bed, loverboy.”

That same wild grin flashed as he stood, taking you with him. Your ankles crossed behind his back, unwilling to yield an inch of contact between the two of you as he carried you inside. Thanks to Daniel, the rented beach house was empty; the temporary occupants off to get further drunk to celebrate Max’s win. If anyone asked where he was, Daniel would cover for him.

Holding your weight with one arm, he opened the door to his room. He set you down, taking your suitcases off the bed. Before he could grab it, you picked up his backup helmet and turned it over in your hands. The helmet usually stayed with the car, but for whatever reason Max hadn’t wanted to let it go after his win. It carried a faint aroma of sweat and race fuel, bringing back the image of Max on the podium earlier that day.

“Should I wear it?”

You laughed at the absurdity of the idea, setting it on the nightstand. “As much as I would probably enjoy it, I would rather see your face.” You ran a finger over his cheekbone, Max’s eyes sliding shut at the touch. His hands settled on your hips, breathing heavy.

Your finger made it as far as his jaw before his hand snapped up to grab your wrist. His eyes snapped open, pupils blown wide as he walked you back until he had you caged against the wall. Your heart beat against your ribs so hard it threatened to burst.

“Say it again,” He asked. There was a demand in his eyes, even though his voice was rough. You knew exactly which words he craved; which ones he wanted to fall from your lips.

“I,” You started, relishing the way his grip on your wrist tightened as he pinned it over your head, “Am proud of you, Max Verstappen.” Your other wrist joined the first, his head tipped so your lips just brushed. “My future world champion.”

The possessiveness in your voice was his undoing. He surged forward, tongue sweeping into your mouth as his body pressed against yours. Any previous softness had evaporated and had been replaced by his usual dominance.

“Mine,” You murmured again and were rewarded with a guttural sound dragging from his throat. He pulled your shirt over your head, then tore off his own. He paused to drink in the sight of you half bare before him, eyes glazed with more than alcohol.

“You just gonna stand there all night long or are you gonna fuck me?”

“I’m getting there,” He promised, stepping back and out of his shorts and boxers. It was your turn to stare as he took his cock in his hand, stroking it gently.

“Max,” You whimpered, knees trembling.

“Shorts off,” He commanded, tone leaving no room for debate. You obeyed, taking your time. Max licked his lips, watching every move. He moved quickly, once more pinning you against the wall. The tip of his cock brushed your stomach. The thought of him moving inside you had your eyelids fluttering shut and arching your back, desperate for any sort of contact.

“I am yours,” Max promised, shifting so his cock nudged at your entrance. “And you…” He paused, rolling his hips and causing you to gasp. “You’re the reason I have anything to give in the first place.”

He slammed into you, letting out a breathless moan as he gave you a moment to adjust. God, his cock filled you so fucking perfectly. Max gripped your hips to keep you steady as he pounded into you. Your head emptied of anything outside this room, a hand clamping over your mouth to keep the curses back.

“Let me hear you,” He demanded, ripping your hand away.

“Fuck! Fuck, Max, don’t stop,” You breathed, utterly unable to form a coherent thought. All that mattered was him having his way with you, the way his eyes lit up when you said his name.

“There’s my good girl,” He purred, a wicked grin spreading across his face. Long gone were the days that he was hesitant with you. He knew what you wanted, knew how to make you squirm. He had memorized every line of your body, worshipping your body like your release was the only victory he had ever desired.

He flicked the mound between your legs with a practiced move, causing you to cry out. Max’s thrusts intensified, knowing you were close. Your breathing grew ragged, nails dragging across his back as that knot in your stomach tightened.

“Max, please-”

“Yes,” He rumbled, his permission finally sending you tumbling over the edge to orgasm. Legs shaking, Max held you steady as he gave a few more quick thrusts, finally pulling out to spill himself on your stomach.

“Bet you’re proud of that too,” He said between breaths.

You laugh, still lost in your bliss. “Actually, yeah. Yeah I am. I’m proud of everything about you Max Verstappen, but especially the sex.”

Max retrieved a warm wash cloth to clean you up with and grinned. “Fancy another go then?”

You threw your arms around his neck, enthralled by the notion that you landed him. “Only if you promise to win next weekend for me.”

“Deal.”

#max verstappen #daniel ricciardo #formula 1 #formula 1 fanfiction

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akp-1327 · 4 years

Text

nerves (ajay bhandari x reader)

Hello! I’ve been wanting to do a drabble for *the cutest ship* lately. I reached the point where the MC and LI become official in book 2 again (🥺)…so I couldn’t not write another scenario. This is a little different than my other works, but I still hope you like it! :)

Pairing: Ajay Bhandari x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Synopsis: Your nerves about wanting to make your relationship official with Ajay are absolutely maddening…but are they even necessary?

(rewrite of Book 2 Ch. 15 diner scene!) (I also bet you know how this works already, but in case you don’t… Y/N = your first name. :)

Your foot tapped restlessly against the tile of the Golden Griddle floor, a stack of innocent-looking heart pancakes doused in a “healthy” amount of strawberry slices, strawberry syrup, and whip cream. It was almost like they had eyes and they stared straight into your soul. Or was it your overreacting nerves? You, in all honestly, couldn’t tell. You felt like you were being watched…by something.

When your twin encouraged you to make things official with Ajay, you never thought it’d be like this. Your head was filled with all the happy scenarios at first; he smiles at you with that adorable little smirk, he says yes, and then he kisses you breathless. It played on repeat in your head…all up until you got to the diner. That’s when the realistic thoughts came to your head and muted the happy ones.

What if he doesn’t want this? Am I being too straightforward? Are the pancakes too much? Oh my god, what if he hates strawberries? What if he hates the hearts? What if he has something going on? He’s going to hate something. Oh gosh, wait, do I have anything in my teeth?

The thoughts built and built as the clock ticked. You texted him about fifteen minutes ago - right before you ladled the pancake batter onto the griddle - and expected him to give a usual snarky response instead of him just leaving you on read a few minutes after. It was unlike him, so you hoped he had some form of reasoning.

You pushed your phone to the side and focused all your attention on inspecting yourself, starting at your tapping feet.

Shoes, check, you thought. Your eyes wandered up your legs, making sure nothing was loose, awkwardly tight, or out of the ordinary with your outfit that he’d notice. Okay-looking clothes, check.

The clock relentlessly kept ticking away. Fifteen minutes became twenty, twenty became thirty, then thirty almost became forty before there was a small chime that came from the direction of the entrance.

Your eyes snapped up and instantly softened at the sight of Ajay, his cheeks rosy and his glasses foggy. He was covered in snowflakes, his black hair seemingly full of dandruff (ewww, why was that your first thought?) and his black pea coat looking the same. He met your wandering eyes as he quickly shed his coat and hung it on the coat hanger next to the door. You quickly took a deep, reassuring breath as he hurried over.

Now or never, you thought.

“Hey, Y/N,” Ajay breathed, sitting on the stool beside you. It squeaked and you jumped a bit. “Whoa, you okay?”

You rushed a nod before remembering the pancakes, your eyes flitting over to them. You slid the plate in front of him and watched the hint of a smirk tug at his lips.

“I made these for you! You…you do like strawberries, right?” You nervously asked, watching his eyes for any trace of distaste. Before you could whip the plate down the counter and start on another batch, he smiled gratefully.

“Love them,” He hummed, eyeing the pancakes thoughtfully, “these look delicious.”

You couldn’t hold back a smile (or a blush) when he looked over at you, his eyes adoring before they lost their sparkle in the next moment.

“I’m so sorry I was late. My car wasn’t starting, so I had to wait for my mom to get home and drive me.” Ajay sighed, his tone overflowing with disappointment. He averted his eyes from yours as an embarrassed flush of pink intensified the color of his chilled cheeks. You couldn’t help but silently let out a sigh of your own, but instead of it sounding upset, it was brimming with relief.

“No worries,” You smiled, poking his shoulder to make him smile again, “sorry that your pancakes are a little cold.”

He grinned at you. Full of happiness, full of life. It was beautiful, as it always had been. You never grew tired of his smile.

“You made them. I would enjoy them regardless,” Ajay quipped, bumping your upper arm with his elbow. You laughed as you watched him reach towards the fork, but then suddenly stop short. Nervous goosebumps shot through your entire body, hoping he didn’t change his mind about the strawberries or the pancakes or…or you.

“What’d you need to talk about? Your text sounded like an emergency.” Ajay asked, cocking his head to the side slightly in question. It was a normal thing he did, but right now…it just seemed more intense. More serious. More full of…something. Curiosity, maybe?

“Oh! Um, it…well…I, uh,” You stumbled, looking down at your hands, “I’ve been wanting to ask you something for a few weeks.”

Ajay visibly relaxed, sure, but he became more observant. You felt his eyes roam around you, scanning you for any bad sign or any wince.

“Oh, yeah?” He questioned, gesturing for you to continue. And so…you did.

“Yeah. So, well, I think we both know what’s been happening between us lately…” You felt your entire body heat to a temperature you never thought was humanly possible, “and I think it’s time we…kinda…fixed that. By…becoming official.”

Once you stopped blabbering, all you heard was silence. You were too damn nervous to look him in the eye, so you focused your gaze on the counter. That was before you felt a warm hand on your shoulder, prompting you to look at him. The air was swept right from your lungs when you saw the pure look of affection swirling in his light brown eyes.

“Hmm.” Ajay hummed, trying to sound stoic with a dorky smile on his face. He reached for your clasped hands in your lap and, despite how sweaty and gross they were, took them in his own. “You think so?”

The heat that was everywhere around your body started to become scorching at his question; no, wait, his snarky response. The one you were desperately missing earlier.

“Yep. You?” You chirped, the thought of him being on the same page as you easing your nerves…for good this time.

Ajay bit his bottom lip in a way that was so, so adorable that you couldn’t quell the sheepish giggle that escaped your throat.

“Yes,” Ajay breathed, smiling so brightly that you thought you could’ve gone blind. It was the happiest you’d ever seen him; his stern and apathetic director’s persona nowhere in sight. This was just raw and unfiltered Ajay; your Ajay.

“I’ve been waiting to ask you, but I was always so nervous that’d you say no. I thought I’d explode whenever I thought about it–” Ajay rambled mindlessly, his own nerves catching up with him. Before he could go any further or before you could chicken out, you screwed your eyes shut and eagerly pressed your lips to his, hoping your practice of kissing him over the past few months would come in handy. And, boy, did it. You knew you hit the nail on the head when you felt his soft lips against your own.

He let out a squeak of surprise before immediately melting into you, his hands loosening around yours to move up your forearms. You took the hint and moved your own to his lean shoulders, gently squeezing them before you laced your fingers into his velvet-like hair. His hands, you felt, ended up clasped at your waist. Before you could even comprehend it, he was pulling you closer; fast enough to make you stumble off your stool.

Air was scarce in your lungs when you finally pulled away, standing on your feet between his legs, your eyes still closed and forehead pressed against his.

“Whoa,” Ajay whispered, his voice as smooth as honey off his tongue, “that was…whoa.”

You hummed in agreement and finally opened your eyes to look at him. You didn’t think you’d ever seen him so…relaxed. This could only make you smile widely.

“Yes, yes it was,” You sighed softly, your tone thick with admiration, “boyfriend.”

Ajay gasped again, though this time, it was louder. His hands tightened on your waist and pulled you even closer to his body.

“Wait, say it again, but slower.” Ajay mumbled, his lips now an inch from your own, and you let out a breathy laugh.

“Boyyyfrie–.” You drawled quietly, though before you could finish, he was kissing you again. A little rougher this time, as if he didn’t get enough of you. Couldn’t get enough of you. Wouldn’t get enough of you.

His hands moved from your waist and up your cheeks, his thumbs brushing against the smooth skin of your cheeks in a way that made you swoon. It was something he’s done a bazillion-and-one times, but somehow, it felt like something new. Everything about this (and him) felt new.

Just after a few seconds of his lips crushing against your own, you were breathless. You pulled back to breathe and saw him smile, guessing your face reflected his when he had that soft look in his eye.

“Yep, this is definitely happening, mhmm,” Ajay laughed, the sound of his voice full of unbridled joy and wonder. “We’re really dating, Y/N. For real. Officially.”

You snickered, nodding your head playfully. “We really are!”

He basked in the sound of your laugh for a moment, gazing at you wondrously, before pressing a light kiss to the tip of your nose and reluctantly pulling away.

“Help me with these pancakes?” Ajay asked tenderly, watching you sigh.

“I made those for you, silly. Not for me.” You teased, wrapping your arms around his when he frowned slightly. “Get used to it, though. I’m going to spoil you rotten, boyfriend.”

“Not if I do first, my dear,” Ajay mocked teasingly, eliciting a fond laugh out of you.

You pulled back and gestured for him to eat his pancakes as you sat back on your stool, watching each delighted reaction he had. It was enough to make your heart melt into a puddle of goo, but that was unimportant. What was important, however, was how you got to share this moment with him as his significant other. Officially.

#ajay bhandari #ajay x reader #ajay bhandari x reader #high school story class act #hssca #choices stories you play #FLUFF OVERLOAD!!!#rewrite

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magpiemorality · 4 years

Note

Platonic intruality with Remus as Patton’s guardian angel :0? Idk it’s an idea I had that I don’t think I could execute well but I think you could!! If I may add one more thing, could it be hurt comfort? I don’t wanna specify more because I wanna see what you do with it!!! (Okay bye now ily!)

This spiraled into something monstrous and painful and very, very cathartic. I hope it doesn’t hurt anyone to read, do watch the warnings. And remember; it is a story, and not an instruction booklet. Because of subject matter I’ve put a little summary in so there’s more warning about what’s coming!

And to you Chris, thanks for the prompt. It was special to write, in many ways.

The Hardest Fight Of All

Guardian Angel Remus has been assigned to help Patton Abbott, a sweet high school student with a very normal, decent life; nothing easy to spot for Remus to fight. But if the threat isn’t from outside, then it may be coming from within.

Warnings: Mental Health Issues, negativity, Unreliable Narrator, Self-Esteem Issues, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Emotional self-harm, what might be construed as bad handling of an individual with mental health issues, death mention (metaphorical).

AO3

***

Patton Abbot didn't deserve his guardian angel. No really. He was sure he was nice enough, and he tried to be kind to everyone he could and forgive anyone that did him harm, but he didn't deserve a guardian angel for that! He wasn't in much danger, he didn't have a lot to complain about, with his perfectly normal life and normal parents and normal school. He even had normal friends! It felt selfish to have a guardian angel when he wasn't suffering at all really, and he hadn't earned it through doing anything particularly good either.

His guardian angel loudly, passionately and regularly disagreed, but Patton had yet to be convinced. Remus was lovely, but there were so many more deserving people that needed his help! He was flattered Remus seemed to enjoy being his guardian angel and hanging around with him but it was probably only because he was forced, and Patton was good at acting nice so at least he hoped he wasn't making the angel's job too awful.

That was if you asked Patton, at least. Remus would have a different perspective on things. But Patton hadn't... actually asked him? Because he was so obviously lying when he insisted Patton did deserve his presence and protection, because Patton didn't deserve it.

Over time though, something changed. Remus started to lose his glow, his wings began to droop and he stopped skipping and floating around above the ground, steps dragging heavier and heavier on the floor. Patton was terrified, constantly checking in with him because Remus was too important to feel bad, or get sick, or whatever it was that was happening! Patton had to help him!

When he woke up one morning to find Remus leaning on the windowsill, gazing despondently out at the garden and the rest of the houses he started to really panic. He had to be hurting the angel somehow, but how?! And how could he fix it?!

"Remus? What- what's up bud? You know you can always talk to me right? I think you're awesome, and you deserve to be happy!"

"I'm not so sure."

"You do!" Patton insisted, placing a hand between his wing joints on his back. "You do so much good, you're always taking care of me and you're so kind and lovely and fun and you-"

"It's taken me a while, you know," Remus interrupted. Patton went quiet apart from a soft, questioning hum. "To figure out why I was sent to you."

Ah. "Well it must have been a mistake, like I said before, but that's okay, you can consider-"

"Patton for the love of the sky and the stars; shut up."

Patton shut up, trying not to let the harshness hurt. He knew he'd been babbling on a bit, so it was probably his own fault, and after all even angels only had a certain amount of patience. And Patton knew he was annoying. But it still hurt just a little bit.

Remus rounded on him, eyes alight for the first time in weeks. He grabbed Patton by the shoulders and steered him back to the bed, sitting him down on the edge firmly and moving back to pace in front of him. Patton waited, still conscious of the reprimand, until Remus finally burst.

"I can't believe it took me so long! Honestly, I wasn't sure there was much to do here; you seemed so happy so much of the time, and you get along with almost everyone! Sure there's the odd bully, but its only ever in situations you put yourself into knowing they'll come, like that video channel thing of yours, and I suppose I assumed you realised you could just leave if you didn't want to see it all. You were so nice to them, too nice! But even when I visited them, sorted that out for you, or got you to spend time away from it, you were still... so hurt. And now, now I see the true problem. It's worse than I thought, and I'm- I'm so sorry I didn't see before, but I'm also angry, and it's not at you but it is-"

Unsurprising, Patton thought. That made sense, after all.

"Because the evil that I'm supposed to battle for you... is you."

Slightly more surprising. "Come again?" Patton asked, apologising quickly for speaking up. Remus bared his teeth as fury flashed over his face, flaring bright again for a moment. He looked... terrifying, but glorious. An angel in battle.

"There is no greater threat to you than yourself. And I don't know how to fight that! I'm angry because I'm sad; why would you attack yourself so viciously day after day, hour after hour, word after word and never afford yourself a single iota of the kindness you afford others?!" He stopped, chest heaving, and Patton felt the weight of an expected answer. He couldn't reply, just shrugging, which only set Remus off again. "You, the nasty horrible thing inside you, it's killing you! You feel like you're dying, and you just let it happen. I don't- I don't know how to fight that, I don't think I can fight that, and you just- " He growled, his morningstar appearing, only partially there, for him to swing in fury. "Everything they say to you that you rail against in public, you bite back against if those very words are turned on your friends with no mercy, you say the same things in your own head. You are so awful to yourself, you're just like them! I cant fight that!"

Patton swallowed. "It's not a big deal," he said weakly, heart hammering in his ribcage.

"But it is! And I can't do my job if you're the one stopping me at every turn! You don't even know you're doing it, or maybe you do and just pretend you don't, I'm not even sure anymore. But you desire so much better, why can't you take your own damn advice?! I don't- I don't think you even want to feel better sometimes, you've turned your suffering into so much of your identity. Do you actually like being this way...?" He cut off, narrowing his eyes at Patton suspiciously. Patton felt part of him squirm under that gaze, but another small part was quietly begging for the angel to go on, to finish lancing this horrid, deep-seated, ancient boil of Bad.

"It's not fair!" Remus finished. "You're doing it to yourself! Do you know how easy that is to stop?!"

Those were the words that finally got Patton up on his feet. Because no matter the truth of the rest of it; that was a lie. "It's not easy! It's not!" Thoughts of therapy and mental health diagnoses and the difficult of facing everything alone when it was easier to just suffer and frame it in martyrdom and help everyone and hope, pray that one day someone would help him too.

(And then push it away away away when that same help was offered back, falling into misery when that endless push- desperately testing his friends to their limits because he knew they'd get tired eventually- turned into a self-fulfilling prophecy as they ran out of support to throw against his walls of self-hatred and negativity)

Remus stepped forwards until they were chest to chest, gazing down from his height, fully blazing bright in the innocuous setting of Patton's bedroom. "But it is. If you want to."

Patton sat down again with a thump, feeling faint and nauseous. There was a moment of silence before he burst into tears, pulling his knees up to hide his face in. He wasn't even sure why he was crying. Because of the horrible cruel words? Because he didn't deserve even this harsh kindness (that felt like staring at the sun without protection or touching electricity, raw and painful and unfiltered for his comfort) after how awful he'd been? Because... because it felt terrible to even think about the fact that this could be his fault in some way?! And now Remus hated him just like the rest and he was going to leave and Patton would be alone and-

Two warm, gentle hands came up to cup his face and tilt it back into view, and Remus was there, looking stern and serious but not angry anymore. The relief that flooded through Patton was almost euphoric, like the weight of the entire sky lifted back up off his lungs. "I can't fight this battle alone, Patton," the angel said. "And I can't fight it at all if you don't truly, deeply, one hundred percent want me to fight it. To do that you need to understand that it's your battle too, that you have to put your armour on and go to war alongside me, if we're to have any chance at success. Because right now you're on their side, and you're sabotaging us from within."

"But it's my condition! My brain doesn't-"

"You think I don't know about that?" Remus frowned, rubbing his cheeks gently. "You've got medication. You've got a therapist, you have people who are trying their hardest to love and support you. But you can't survive the ocean on a raft of other people's making. It will stop you sinking, for a time- perhaps even for a long time, but you won't get any closer to shore unless you start to paddle. And as you paddle you'll also have to patch up any cracks in the raft with your own hands, perhaps with the materials you're given but the work to stitch it all together and sail it has to be your own. It's- I'm not a fan of metaphors but do you see? You can't be the only one not contributing to your own recovery."

"I'm not recovering from anything, I just have a negative self image and... and some other things. But they're bad! They're not things you get better from-" Patton tried, voice trembling and weak. Remus just looked at him, hands still on his face.

"Aren't they?" He asked simply. "You don't think you could ever manage to feel better than you do right now? You think all the stories of people improving their lives are... made up? You think, perhaps, that the medication is all a placebo, that once you've labelled the problem it's made permanent and nothing can ameliorate the symptoms or make life easier to live?" The angel leaned in and dropped a kiss to Patton's forehead, leaving a warm tingling in its wake. "The world would burn, if that were true," he whispered, before standing up.

Patton just kept on sitting in silence, face itching as his tears started to dry on his skin.

Remus gave him a small but real smile. "You've got plenty to think about. Consider my pitch; without you I will continue to fight the war, hopeless though it may be, but with you..." He grinned properly then. "Oh the things we could achieve, dear one."

And off he vanished, in a flutter of feathers and the sound of moving light.

It left Patton feeling as though, in the space of only maybe half an hour, the entire world had changed around him. He wondered, as he lay down on his bed, exhausted and reaching for his favourite plushie for comfort, whether what Remus said was what his therapist secretly wanted to say. It was a funny thought, mild-mannered Dr Picani ranting like the passionate angel, but Patton barely managed a lift of his lips. He needed to rest, and then he'd start to think about all this. If it wasn't true, if the angel was mistaken, seeing things that weren't there because of how boring it was being Patton's guardian; then nothing really needed to change except he would renew his efforts to get Remus reassigned.

If it was true though? Then that changed everything, and Patton Abbott would have a lot of hard work ahead.

He wished he knew which one he was hoping for.

#writepie #ts patton #ts remus #platonic intruality #ts writing #ts sanders sides #ts sanders sides aus #ts sanders sides fic #sanders sides #under a read more so people can see the warnings first

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my-major-is-k-howard · 4 years

Text

Lover

Inspired by “Lover” by Taylor Swift. I’ll be posting chapters every other day until the final chapter (7). Hope you guys enjoy this one!

Word Count: 2315

Ch. 1

————————————————————

Ch. 2 - We Make the Call

That Christmas Polaroid filled Anne with so much nostalgia. She remembered how she and Cathy actually had waited until Valentine’s Day to put away all of the Christmas decorations they had set up together. It had even been Cathy who insisted they leave them up despite Anne’s efforts to put them away after Christmas was over. It had in turn made the house feel so much more like their house. Their home.

Anne also recalled that a few months after Christmas she and Cathy had decided to splurge on their very own Polaroid camera. They would never admit it but they were slightly jealous of how cute the pictures of Kat and Anna were and wanted that for themselves.

Anne looked at a few more of the hanging pictures before her eyes landed on another one of her favorites. Both she and Cathy were under a blanket on their couch, bathed in the blue light of the movie they were watching. Cathy’s head was resting on Anne’s chest while Anne’s head rested comfortably on top of Cathy’s. Both of them had dopey smiles on their faces, clearly not anticipating the flash of a camera. It was raw and unfiltered, a beautiful reflection of who they were when no one was watching. And they were deeply in love with each other, that much was obvious.

~~~~~

“The pizza guy should be here soon,” Anne announced to Cathy as she sat down next to her on the couch.

“The girls said they were almost here a few minutes ago,” Cathy responded, her focus on the Polaroid camera she was fiddling with in her hands. “I can’t figure out how to get the film in. Kat makes it look so easy!” Cathy exclaimed, setting down the film and the camera on the table next to her.

“We’ll just ask her when she arrives then,” Anne commented, as her leg began to bounce. Anne was having trouble concealing her excitement for the queens’ girls night that would commence soon. They had made it a tradition to have a girls night three times a month, each time at a different couple’s house. This week, Cathy and Anne were hosting, causing the latter to nearly burst at the seams with enthusiasm.

Cathy began giggling and Anne turned to her with a confused look on her face. “What?”

“Nothing! It’s just you’re acting like an overexcited puppy right now,” Cathy responded, gesturing to Anne’s bouncing leg.

“Oh. Sorry.” Anne forced her leg to stop bouncing.

“Don’t be sorry! It’s actually really adorable.” Anne blushed at that and leaned in to kiss Cathy, only to be cut off by the loud ring of the doorbell.

“I swear that always happens!” Anne whined as Cathy got up to answer the door. The four other queens poured in through the door and made their way to the living room behind Cathy.

Cathy returned to her spot beside Anne as the other queens got comfortable. “Pizza should be here soon,” Cathy commented as she put her arms around Anne’s neck.

“Yay!” Kat shouted, before her eyes locked on the Polaroid camera that was still laying on the table beside the couch. “You got one too?” Kat questioned excitedly already making her way over to the camera.

“Yeah! Your pictures inspired us to get one,” Anne explained. “Cathy had some trouble getting the film in, though. Kat, could you help her?”

“Of course!” Kat walked Cathy through the steps of inserting the film, slow enough for Cathy to fully grasp the process before the camera was returned to its place on the side table.

Not long after, the pizza arrived and all of the girls began eating.

“Hey Cathy! How’s the book process coming along?” Catherine asked.

Cathy had been working on her first novel for the better part of the last year and she smiled widely at its mention. “It’s going great actually! It’s almost through the editing process. We’re hoping to get a physical copy sometime in the next few months.”

“You’ll have to invite us over when that happens,” Jane said. “We can celebrate together!”

All the queens expressed their agreement and Anne smiled at their support. Cathy had worked so hard on her book and she was glad that their closest friends were willing to celebrate her huge achievement with her.

The queens finished off their pizza while catching up on each other’s lives.

“I swear I have not been able to separate Kat from her camera! She takes it everywhere. To the park. To the movies. To the mall. Literally everywhere. I’ve had to hide it from her but she always manages to find it,” Cleves rambled to the other queens, feigning anger but everyone noticed the way her fingers interlocked with Kat’s as she talked.

“Hey! I’ll find my camera soon. It’s finally spring and everything is so pretty now! I have to take pictures to survive!!” The other queens giggled at Kat’s dramatic response. Anne was pleased that the camera made Kat so happy, even if it was at Anna’s expense. Her cousin deserved all the joy in the world and the camera was a good start.

“We should start the movie night!” Cathy piped up. The other queens nodded in agreement before she continued. “Anne, would you go get some of the extra blankets and pillows from the closet?”

“Of course, my love,” Anne responded and got up to fetch the requested items from their hallway closet. She grabbed as many blankets and pillows as she could before returning to the chaos of the living room.

“A horror film!” Anna shouted.

“No! We should do a rom-com!” Jane shouted back.

“No, that’s too cheesy, babe! Adventure!” Catherine interjected.

Anne locked eyes with Cathy in confusion. Cathy looked back with wide eyes, not knowing how to appease all of them at once. Anne dropped all of the blankets and pillows she was holding before addressing the arguing queens.

“Why don’t we just watch a Disney movie. Can we all agree on Disney?”

The queens exchanged glances before shrugging. “Sure. But which movie?” Cleves questioned.

“Tangled!” Cathy suggested. “I love that movie!”

No queens objected to the movie selection so Anne considered it the winner. “Tangled it is, then.”

The queens got the movie ready, while Cathy escaped to the kitchen to make some popcorn. Anne passed out the remaining blankets and pillows to the other queens before settling back on the couch with a blanket of her own. Cathy returned with a few bowls of popcorn and moved to turn off the lights.

The movie started as Anne opened her arms for Cathy to cuddle into her. Cathy squeaked in excitement and pulled the blanket over both of them before finally resting her head on Anne’s chest. Anne felt a million butterflies release in her stomach at that moment. Anne knew she would never grow tired of that feeling. Cathy was her everything and getting to hold her in her arms made her feel complete and at peace.

Words failed to express Anne’s emotions, so she resorted to pressing a loving kiss to the top of Cathy’s head. She felt Cathy snuggle deeper into her at that and she smiled widely. Anne’s focus finally shifted to the movie in front of them and she rested her head on top of Cathy’s to watch the scenes unfold.

After a few minutes, the movie was interrupted by the sound of a Polaroid picture being ejected from a camera. Anne looked up, confused by the abrupt sound. One of the queens paused the movie as her eyes scanned the room before she found the culprit. Kat was sheepishly holding the Polaroid camera and grabbing the ejected picture before she looked up to meet the eyes of the five other queens staring at her quizzically.

“What?” Kat asked, feigning innocence.

“You know what,” Aragon responded.

“When did you even grab that?” Cathy asked, puzzled that she hadn’t noticed her girlfriend’s cousin snatch her camera.

“I picked it up and hid it under my blanket while you guys were arguing about which movie to watch. I didn’t want you to notice because candid pictures are always the best pictures,” Kat stated matter-of-factly. “And you guys were too cute! I had to capture the moment!”

Now, Anne was blushing. She never meant to. It was just, the very thought of Cathy sometimes made her blush subconsciously. She often felt like a teenager falling in love for the first time, with everything feeling so new and exciting. It didn’t matter that she had been with Cathy for a few years now; she still got giddy thinking about how they were actually together and would maybe spend the rest of their lives together too…

“Ooh! Anne, you’re blushing,” Cleves teased, throwing a kernel of popcorn in her direction.

“Anne, it’s almost like you blush at the mention of Cathy’s name!” Catherine exclaimed, causing Anne to blush even harder. “See?”

“Okay, that’s enough! Stop teasing my Annie,” Cathy quipped before snuggling deeper in Anne’s chest then sticking out her tongue at Anne’s accusers.

Anne smiled and joked back. “Yeah, don’t mock my love for Cathy!” To further her point, she gently lifted Cathy’s head until their lips touched. It was soft but filled with so much love. They pulled away as Anna made gagging sounds in the background.

“Please, someone play the movie before they start heading to second base,” Cleves shouted, earning an eruption of laughter from the other queens, Anne included. Jane reached for the remote and the movie resumed.

All the queens finished watching the movie in comfortable silence. The queens of course joined in singing “I See the Light” when the song came on, belting out each lyric and trying to be the loudest voice. But for Anne, she was singing for Cathy. Her girlfriend, as cheesy as it was, really was her light. Everything in her life seemed so much brighter, so much more vivid with Cathy in it. She brought so much meaning to Anne’s life, and Anne could barely imagine living without her.

Cathy pulled away from Anne, breaking the latter queen out of her thoughts. “I really love that movie,” Cathy whispered to no one in particular.

“Of course you do, Cathy! Flynn is basically the male version of Anne,” Kat commented. “By the way, here’s the Polaroid from earlier.” Kat handed the picture to Cathy while putting the camera back on the side table.

Cathy grabbed the picture from Kat and Anne leaned over to get a better look at it. Anne swooned at how cute she and Cathy looked together, realizing she would probably never get over how perfectly they were made for each other.

“Aw, babe, we’re so cute,” Anne whispered, earning a quick kiss on her cheek from Cathy.

“You bet we are, love.” Cathy smiled before checking her phone to see what time it was. “When did it get so late?” The time on her phone showed 11:28 p.m.

Jane yawned before announcing, “We should probably get going then. Sorry for staying so late, loves.” Jane flashed a sympathetic smile before shuffling to get her things together. The other three queens mimicked her actions.

Anne felt her heart sink at the thought of her friends leaving. She glanced to her side and it seemed Cathy was feeling the same way as a slight frown appeared on her face. The two looked at each other and shared a knowing look.

Cathy spoke up first. “Why don’t you all spend the night? We can have a little impromptu slumber party!”

Kat was the first to respond. “Really?! Like, how we used to?”

Anne answered her cousin’s question. “Yeah! We can play truth or dare and then tell embarrassing secrets about our girlfriends!”

“That sounds horrifying! I’m in,” Anna smirked.

Jane and Catherine shared a quick glance before accepting the invitation as well. Cathy ran off to collect even more pillows and blankets to make the living room a more comfortable place for the queens to rest for the night.

A few rounds of truth or dare and several embarrassing stories later, the queens slowly began to drift off to sleep, starting with Kat of course. Anne soon realized that she was the only one awake. She looked around the living room at the sleeping queens and a smile spread across her face.

Kat’s head was resting on Anna’s chest and Cleves had her arms wrapped protectively around Kat. Jane and Catherine spooning, surprisingly with Jane being the big spoon. Anne smirked and promised herself to never let Aragon live that down.

Then, her eyes landed on Cathy. Her sweet, lovely Cathy. Anne swore she could spend the rest of her life admiring her girlfriend’s sleeping form. She looked so peaceful, like nothing could ever disturb her. And she was endlessly beautiful. Her curls were sprawled across the pillows and floor and her lips were slightly parted. Anne had a sudden urge to capture the moment forever in a picture. Speaking of which…

Anne glanced to the side table briefly, making a mental note to hang up the new Polaroid Kat had taken and return the camera to their bedroom in the morning. She slowly crawled next to Cathy on the floor, doing her best not to disturb her in her sleep. She pulled the blanket over herself and adjusted it so that it covered Cathy’s shoulders. Finally she wrapped her arm loosely around Cathy’s waist and laid her head down on her pillow.

“Took you long enough,” Cathy whispered tiredly to Anne.

“Shh. Baby, go back to sleep,” Anne whispered back and placed a soft kiss on Cathy’s forehead. Cathy smiled at the gesture, shifted her head to Anne’s chest, and promptly fell back asleep. Anne held Cathy a little closer before drifting off to sleep herself.

#parrlyn #parrleyn #anne boleyn #catherine parr #anne boleyn x catherine parr #parrlyn fanfic #six the musical #six the musical fanfic

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galahadwilder · 5 years

Text

Waking Nightmare

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Nightmares aren’t so bad if you’re prepared for them. The worst of Sandboy was the first time, when they weren’t ready for him, when they hadn’t expected any of what was coming. When everything was a shock.

Now, the second time around, it’s not so bad. Horror-freakshow Adrien is off somewhere, jerkily crawling around the city and screaming about how much he loves Lila, and Ladybug is frankly unimpressed. A nightmare is never as effective the second time.

She supposes that’s why Chat gets a little cocky, why he accidentally flies right into Sandboy’s dust cloud. He drops to the ground mid-vault, coughing, as Sandboy cackles, flying away from them on his cloud.

Ladybug swings down to catch him and looks up, fully expecting to be confronted with her own face, twisted in hate. She’s excited, honestly—she’s due for a reckoning with Nightmare Ladybug. Nobody says those things to her Chaton without getting a fist in their face.

“Kitty,” she hears her own voice say, not from on high but from the streets. “Ch-Chat Noir, help m-m-me.”

And Marinette stumbles out of the alley, holding her bloody chest and dragging one leg, and collapses onto the ground in front of Chat.

Ice cakes around Ladybug’s heart as she stares at her wounded doppelgänger. This is... this is his nightmare?

The Nightmari is on her side, curled up, holding her shoulders. Half her hair is torn out at the bloody roots, her leg is bending the wrong way and turning a sickening black-green, and her chest shudders with every breath. Even knowing she’s not real, Ladybug wants to vomit.

Why Marinette? She’d expect herself, yes, but in costume, not as a civilian. What is going on that Chat’s worst nightmare is—

Chat’s eyes spark dangerously as he catches sight of the Nightmari. He surges to his feet, and Ladybug has a moment of horror where she realizes that he’s going to the nightmare. “Marinette!” he croaks as Ladybug’s yo-yo wraps around his torso, yanking him to a halt. “Mari!”

Ladybug yanks Chat to look at herself, locking eyes with him. “Listen to me,” she hisses. “It’s just a nightmare. She’s not real.”

Chat whines, yanking against the yo-yo string. His eyes are distant, feral, in a way she hasn’t seen on him since Reverser took his courage. He’s not even looking at the real her, too focused on the doppelgänger.

The Nightmari jerks, screaming, and Chat—the sound that comes out of his mouth isn’t human, or even feline. It’s the Platonic ideal of anguish, reverberating in Ladybug’s bones as he yanks against her grip.

She digs her heels into the ground and tenses her muscles.

“Please, Bug!” Chat screams, struggling forward—her feet slide forward, digging furrows into the cobbled street. “Her nightmare—it got her, let me help her, I have to save her—!”

“The Cure, Chat!” Ladybug cries. “If you want to help her, we have to stop Sandboy!”

Chat’s whole body goes slack, and for a moment she thinks she’s gotten through to him. But then—

He turns to her, and she sees the same rage burning in his eyes as when Dark Cupid took him. “I would let all of Paris burn to save her,” he growls, and the implication in his words is clear: stay out of my way.

Ladybug drops the yo-yo string in shock. He’s never looked at her like this, not when he’s in control of his own mind, and the fact that it’s her civilian self that’s driving him into this frenzy—before she can stop him, Chat is at the Nightmari’s side. “I’m here, Princess,” he whispers.

“Kitty,” the Nightmari gasps, reaching up to him. Their hands meet, clasp... and then her skin begins to blacken and flake.

Oh, no. No no no. Chat’s nightmare... Ladybug knows exactly where it’s going now, and it’s worse than she could ever have possibly imagined.

The Nightmari screams as the false Cataclysm takes hold, but she doesn’t even finish a breath before her tongue turns to ash. It’s slow, too slow, real Cataclysm is faster than this and it’s just prolonging Chat’s agony. She’s watching herself burn from the inside out, shuddering and twitching as her body disintegrates, and even knowing it isn’t real doesn’t stop her heart from squeezing into a tiny point like it’s trying to hide behind her sternum.

Everything’s silent for a moment, and then she hears the worst goddamn sound she’s ever experienced as Chat’s vocal cords seem to shatter in raw, unfiltered torment.

All Ladybug’s muscles lock up at once. She doesn’t know what to do—doesn’t know how to help him. He doesn’t know Marinette well enough for this, he shouldn’t be reacting this way—what is he...?

She sees a black-purple glow fluttering towards him. Oh no. Oh GOD NO.

Hawkmoth must’ve pulled the Akuma back from Sandboy—Chat’s in such a bad way that... that...

She slams into him, spinning him around, pressing his chest to hers. “Chat it wasn’t real!” she whispers, frantic. “It’s me, it’s Marinette, you didn’t kill me, I’m right here, I’m okay—” She’s sobbing into his ear. Fuck identities, he needs her now.

“Marinette?” he gasps, his chest shaking.

“Yeah,” she sobs. “Yeah, Kitty, it’s me.”

He breaks down into her, and the butterfly hesitates, fluttering in a circle around them. She doesn’t even let go of him as she snaps her yo-yo upward, catching it in the shell and burning the corruption out of its body. It flutters off, white, and Ladybug drops onto Chat Noir’s shoulder. They’re both shaking, together.

Finally, Chat’s shuddering slows. “Th-thank you,” he rasps. “For—for lying to me.”

Ladybug blinks. “What?”

“I just... I know that must’ve been... you hate it,” he says. “I just... I needed to believe she was okay. Just for a minute.”

Ladybug’s breath rushes into her lungs. She just spilled her identity to him, and he didn’t believe her.

“I... I need to check on her,” Chat says. “To make sure she’s okay.”

She’s never seen Chat move this fast. She’s hard-pressed to keep up with him, pushing her legs, her arms, her lungs to their absolute limits, but before she’s realized it she’s lost sight of him completely.

“Dammit, Chat,” she gasps, rolling to a stop on a rooftop a few blocks away from the bakery. She can barely stand—she had to outrun Nightmare Adrien before transforming just in case Hawkmoth could see through his eyes, then chase Sandboy II around Paris, then this. She’s bent over, hands on her knees, breathing hard—

Bip. Chat’s text tone. She flips open her compact.

Chaton: she’s not here

Chaton: lb she’s not here

He’s panicking. He always texts with proper grammar and syntax, no matter the situation; she’s never seen him devolve like this. Now that the danger’s passed, something in her warms at the thought that she did this to him. Not Ladybug-her, Marinette-her.

She catches her breath, leaps down to street level, and detransforms, sprinting towards her apartment. She’s looking up as she does, trying to catch a glimpse of Chat overhead... so she doesn’t notice the loose cobblestone until she’s halfway to the ground.

Halfway’s as far as she gets.

“You’re okay,” Adrien breathes, and she can feel his... something. Like he’d been holding his breath for hours, and now he’s finally let it out.

“Y-yeah?” she says, as he lifts her back upright and places her on her feet, oh so gently, in a way that makes her heart go soft. “Wh-why would I... not be?”

“What were you doing out?” Adrien says instead, dodging the question. “It’s, like, midnight. And there was an Akuma!”

She blinks. “What—what were you doing out?” she snaps back, completely forgetting that she can’t talk around him. “Doesn’t your dad lock you inside the house at eight?”

Adrien looks at the ground, sheepish. “Snuck out,” he grumbles. “Akuma got between me and the house.”

Her heart falls at his face. “Oh,” she says. She’s not sure how to respond to that.

He lights up suddenly. “Hey,” he says. “Do you... mind if I walk you home?”

Marinette bites her lip. This... normally, that would be amazing, but—“Sorry,” she says. “I’d love to, but... but I need to find someone first.”

“Oh, who is it?” Adrien says. “We can look together.”

Marinette barely restrains herself from growling. Why, why, why does Adrien have to be such a gentleman? She wouldn’t love him if he weren’t, sure, but right now it is stunningly inconvenient. “Just—just a friend,” she says.

“Who is he?”

She closes her eyes. “Chat Noir, okay?” she says. “He was freaking out earlier, and he was looking for me, and I have to find him before he hurts himself—”

“Ladybug told you?” he gasps, and then immediately covers his mouth, his eyes going as wide as she’s ever seen them.

Marinette’s eyes narrow. “Told me?” she says. “Told me what?”

Adrien swallows, then sighs. “I... Marinette,” he says. “Mari. Princess.”

Marinette’s eyelid twitches. No. No, that didn’t—that wouldn’t—

He grins that fucking grin, and oh Kwami, it is him. “Hi,” he says, scratching the back of his neck.

Marinette stares at him, and then... she can’t help it. She starts laughing. Full-throated, ugly laughing.

He stares at her with concern. “Marinette?” he says. “Are you... okay?”

“Chaton!” she shrieks with delight, throwing herself into his confused arms. She presses her body to his, because he’s here and he’s okay. “I wasn’t lying earlier,” she whispers.

Adrien’s eyes widen. “You... what?”

She smiles. “I told you I was fine,” she murmurs, stepping back and blushing... but he reaches out, takes her hand.

“My Lady?”

She closes her eyes, smiles, nods. “It’s me, Kitty,” she says. “I’m okay.”

He yanks her into his arms. “Oh thank Plagg,” he sobs. “Don’t—don’t ever die on me again.”

She pokes him in the stomach. “You first,” she says with a smile. “Hypocrite.”

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#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #original content #my fic #gore #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #chat noir #ladybug #adrienette #adrinette #ladynoir #marichat #angst #fanfic #fanfiction #sandboy

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sahbibabe · 4 years

Text

Ignoring The Obvious

Soulmate AU

Sephiroth/Fem! Reader

Part Eleven

Your hospital stay is short. Your training commences. Reno has serious problems with being... well, helpful. Or encouraging. Especially with a giant Shinra dog chasing you through vents.

THE BED WAS HARD, YOUR knees were killing you, your abdomen was on fire, and the nurse was steadily refusing to give you morphine no matter how much you begged. You had spent the better part of two days as high as a kite, blissfully unaware of the train wreck of memories about to hit you the moment you were weaned off of your medication. The file─your unfiltered, raw test subject notes and classifications─sat innocently on the nightstand as if it was completely separate from the emotional turmoil you were facing.

It would be easy, so easy to slip into the mercenary's mindset and ignore the pain. To shove the emotions aside and bury them so deep you didn't even have to acknowledge their existence. All you had to do was will them away, and they would be gone. But that was unhealthy and the moment you did that, all of your progress would be ruined forever and you would start from scratch once more.

But did it really matter? You asked yourself the same question over and over again as you watched the Chocobo documentary on the one-channel television network. You would be going back to that life anyways, with that same mindset and habits, without anyone to stop you from doing otherwise. You would be killing people for Rufus Shinra in the name of eliminating competition; a petty game was what it all came down to.

And you were the knight who guarded the King.

You looked away from the television to your food. It was plain hospital food, rich in protein to help you replace all of the blood you had supposedly lost while you fought the doctor tooth and nail when he tried to get a needle in your arm for an IV. Reno had laughed when he told you about the resident's injuries, but it only made you feel sick to your stomach when the nurses had to strap you down like a wild animal.

Other than Reno, your only other visitor was Rude, and he had been thoughtful enough to bring you a bouquet of real flowers. He wouldn't say where he had gotten them from when you asked, just sat in silence, so you asked him instead how Hojo was doing with that stab wound, as smug as you might have sounded.

"You didn't stab Hojo," Rude told you bluntly, a slight hint of confusion in his voice. Your smugness was wiped from your face. "You stabbed an assistant doctor who had come in to check your new vitals."

"No," you had whispered,"no, that… That was Hojo. I remember it like it happened seconds ago…"

"It doesn't matter. The doctor has been treated and compensated out of your salary. You'll be fifty thousand gil short."

And that had been the end of that.

Now, you picked at the cheap, plasticky roast beef on your plate and pushed your asparagus around in circles. You weren't getting anywhere without the alarms sounding on your bed, so you were effectively a prisoner until they turned them off. Add that to the iron they were slowly feeding into your IV and you felt like a rabbit confined in a small cage, pacing a few steps at a time.

Out of the corner of your eye, sitting right beside the file you were desperately trying to avoid reading, sat the Book of Colors: a book that translated all of the different colors soulmates might see, their specific combinations, and surprisingly, origins.

The strings felt snug against your fingers as you weighed your options, kneading your fingers into your palm. There was a lot you could learn about the authenticity of soulmate bonds through that book. People followed it like gospel, spoke of it as something holy. You had never had a reason to read it until now, or the money to, but now you had prime opportunity and the eyesight to help you do it.

You picked up the book and pushed your lunch tray away from the bed.

It was a hefty leather thing, dyed black and sewn with gold thread to display the title: The Book of Colors. One could easily take it for a children's book, but it was so much more than that. A quick glance at the spine showed it was the newest edition.

The first page you opened it to described the various types of soulmate bonds, everywhere from bonds to the literal soul to telepathic communication. It depended heavily on the people bound to determine what kind of bonds they got. Cynical, unfair people walked around without color vision until they met their soulmate; quiet, shy people got telepathy; and people like you, a mercenary gone civilian, got strings.

"Strings guide the lost home," you mumbled, tracing your finger over the plain description beneath the header,"and return hearts to where they belong."

One of the authors theorized heavily that strings meant involvement with the lifestream personally, or some kind of way to identify past soulmates with one another.

"It's a very unique thing, the strings," the author wrote,"just like anyone else's, but this means that the two souls have already connected before in the past. Eons or two hundred years ago, who can say?"

You skimmed over the rest and flipped over to the colors, the part you had been dreading and also curiously dying to read. There were sections to different soulmate types, some colors meaning different things, so you found your section and settled down in your springy hospital bed.

"Identify the weave of your strings," the book told you. It offered a small chart of different weave types. "You may have two types or you may have four. Find yours and look at the pairing chart to determine the intent of your bond."

That was easy enough. You shook the threads out and looked closely at their weave; there was a single double braid, what looked like a dutch braid, and an elaborately woven pattern that repeated halfway through the string on each one.

"The double braid signifies a union between two people," you read, following the lines with your finger. "If there is a child born from that union, two becomes three on this specific line."

You didn't have a third thread, like you expected, so you moved on.

"The dutch braid signifies a match with power and darkness. Don't worry yourself, though! Darkness can be equated to many things, such as self conflict, a trouble within the body, or even a mental disconnection from stress."

Sephiroth didn't seem to be mentally disconnected, but you didn't even know him that well. You messed with the threads for a few moments, stuck on that phrasing, before finding the last section where the more elaborate braids were.

"This gorgeous flower patterned weave means that you have reunited with your soulmate several times in various past lives. Much like additional colors to the vision discussed in the previous soulmate identification, the different petals on it connote just how many times you have been with your soulmate in past lives. Count them! How many do you have?"

You raised an eyebrow and counted the individual petals. One, two, three, four, five, six, and… just burgeoning on the final petal, weaving itself before your eyes, was seven.

But there wasn't a number for that─there wasn't even a color combination or weave combination for the mess around your hand. You checked several times, but to no avail; no one had ever had gold, purple, and green and black threads.

You slammed the book shut and tossed it back on the nightstand just as the door handle turned and popped open. Reno sauntered past the threshold and made himself at home in the guest chair, eating popcorn and humming an odd tune.

"So, how's the chocobo documentary doing?" His eyes sparkled with mirth. "Making you bored yet?"

"Sure. If you count restlessness as bored." You crossed your arms and fixed him with a hard stare. "When can I get out and do my job?"

"In an hour." Reno threw a handful of popcorn in his mouth dismissively. "Doc says you're cleared to start training and work off that excessive energy you have."

"Good." You ripped your blankets back and hopped out of the bed. The floor was still cold beneath the cheap socks the hospital had given you. The world swam around you for a moment and you steadied yourself against the nightstand. "Good. That means I didn't pass the exam?"

Reno shrugged. "You never finished it. Tseng pulled some strings. As long as you pass training you should be fine."

"Why do you sound like you doubt me?"

"You'll find out in… oh, about an hour."

And oh, find out you did.

"Reno, I'm going to murder you for this."

Sweat traced rivers down your face as you shimmied your way through the ventilation system of the training barracks, a guard dog snapping at your heels. He didn't answer over the comms system, but you knew he had to be laughing at you somehow.

"Shit," you yelped, feeling the dog's teeth sink down into your shoe. You kicked back on reflex and it cried out, releasing you instantly. You moved a little faster, relieved at the sight of a vent, and slammed your elbow down on the grate. It didn't budge and there was a very pissed off hound breathing down your neck. "Oh, fuck me."

"Keep on moving, [Name]!" Reno chortled. You scowled and got on your knees, moving as fast as you could given the cramped space. "Three minutes left!"

"You and your three minutes can go to hell!"

"Yeah, but then who would sic hounds on you then? You'd fail your training no problem."

"Reno," you growled, shoving your fingers into another grate just ahead and pushing down hard. It swung open. The dog got closer. "I'm going to kick your ass."

"Get out of the vents and then we can talk!"

You dropped neatly onto a bench, the leatherwork groaning beneath your feet. You hopped off and opened the door right as the dog dropped out behind you, hightailing it down the hall at full speed.

"Gotta take out the dog, too, [Name]!" Reno reminded you.

Feet skidding into the marble floor, you whirled around, cursing Reno for his snarky reminders and tackled the dog head on. It flailed as you wrapped your arms around its neck and cut off its breathing, barely keeping purchase by pinning your knees to the over muscled thighs. It growled and tried to bite you, the struggle slowing second by second, until it flopped down on the floor, tongue hanging.

Unconcious, but not dead.

You reclined back on your haunches with a sigh, wiping sweat from your forehead, and when you opened your eyes, you found the full brunt of Reeve Tuesti's gaze staring you down.

Your hand dropped from your forehead. Not even your labored breathing helped you forget that you had somehow ended up in a completely different building than Reno had told you to go to.

"Damnit."

#final fantasy #final fantasy 7 remake #sephiroth x reader #soulmate au #soulmate #final fantasy vii remake

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liluwrites · 5 years

Text

Auld Lang Syne

Three couples ring in the New Year. (DenNor, SuFin, HongIce) (2k)

Lukas turns his marshmallow slowly over the fire, and watches the sides burn golden.

Beside him, Matthias curses under his breath as his own marshmallow melts off the stick and falls into the fire. “Oh no,” he says as it disintegrates amongst the flames. “That was my last one.”

Lukas laughs quietly. “Here, you idiot. You can have mine.” He extends the stick and Matthias bites clumsily at it. “Good?”

“Mmm. Positively orgasmic.”

He wrinkles his nose. “Never say that again.”

“Why not?” He presses his face close to Lukas’ and presses tiny kisses along his jawline. “Am I embarrassing you?”

Blushing, Lukas pushes him away. “No, you’re embarrassing yourself.”

“Aww. You’re so mean to me.”

Still grinning, Matthias turns back to the fire. Lukas watches him; the way his face is lit golden by the firelight, the amber flames dancing in his eyes, the sparks floating around him like winter fireflies. His love for Matthias hits him like a freight train – a sudden blow to the chest that leaves him reeling and breathless.

“Hey…” He says. It’s quiet, so quiet he thinks Matthias might not have heard, but of course he has.

“Yes?” He turns to him, his face aglow, and Lukas struggles to find his voice.

“I…I know I don’t say this a lot, not as much as I should, not as much as I want to, but…” he stares into the flickering flames. “I just…I love you a lot. I want you to know that.”

“Oh, Lukas…”

“Wait. Wait, I’m not finished.” He takes a deep breath. “You’re just…you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. So many people have given up on me, but you haven’t - you’ve never doubted me, even when I’ve given you so little in return – “

“Lukas – “

“And I want to say I’m sorry, and thank you. I never thought I would end up with someone like you, someone I could love so deeply with my whole heart, but then you showed up and – I love you. So, so much.”

He lowers his head, shy and nervous and fearing with every second the silence lasts that Matthias is going to laugh, that he doesn’t feel the same. Then, he hears a quiet sniffle, and a moment later, Matthias’ arms are around him.

“Lukas, you’ve given me so much. I love you the way you are. I can feel your love for me every day in the little things – the way you make treats for me just because you want to, when you let me talk to you about things you don’t know about because you know how important it is to me, the way you’ll cuddle with me in bed and give me little kisses, and keep kissing my hair even when you think I’m asleep. The way you gave me your marshmallow, even though they’re your favourite sweet! Never, ever apologise for the way you love me.”

Lukas can feel the tears prickling at his eyes, and he presses his face into Matthias’ jacket and clutches him so tightly he feels like his heart could burst. Matthias clings to him, kisses the top of his head and breathes him in deeply.

In the distance, a church bell chimes.

Matthias lifts his head. “That’s it. That’s the new year.”

Lukas wipes his eyes and smiles at him. “I’m glad I’m spending it here, with you.”

“Me, too.” Matthias’ arm tightens around him, and he leans into the embrace as, in the city below them, the first fireworks shoot into the sky.

Tino smiles as he watches his children run shrieking around the yard.

It’s almost midnight, and usually he would have sent them to bed hours ago, after a story and a kiss on the forehead – but tonight is New Year’s Eve, the end of a decade, and everything is different. He has laid out a blanket on the grass so the family can all sit together and watch the nearby fireworks display.

“Ahh! Papa, no, stop!” Peter falls to the ground squealing as Berwald tickles him, growling like a bear. “Erland, help me!”

Erland leaps onto Berwald’s back in counterattack, and Berwald shakes him off and starts to tickle him as well. Hana runs around them in erratic circles, yapping excitedly.

Tino smiles at the sight of his husband and children playing – even after their ten years of marriage, he has never once regretted his decision. He and Berwald have their quarrels, but he could never love another person the way he loves Berwald, and they’ve raised a perfect family together; two adorable, happy young sons and and a dog, all in a sweet suburban house with a good school nearby.

As a teenager, he never thought he’d make it this far – but he has, and every year, he is always so, so thankful for the way his life has turned out.

“Papa, look, look! Fireworks!” Both children cease their game and crowd at the fence to see the fireworks shoot into the sky and shimmer back down to earth. Tino watches them too, entranced, until an arm falls around his shoulders.

“Hey,” Berwald says.

“Hi.” Tino raises into the tips of his toes to kiss his husband on the lips. He pouts. “Why are you so tall?”

“Why are you so small?” Berwald gives him the tiny, playful smirk he has grown to love.

“So I can do this!” He jumps into Berwald’s arms, wrapping his arms around his neck and his legs around his waist. Berwald catches him easily and holds him close, lowering his chin so their noses brush and their eyes connect. “I can kiss you better up here.”

“Oh, really?” Berwald’s eyes, darkened in the twilight, are sparkling with mischief.

“Yes.” He connects their lips briefly, then pulls away. “See?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Mm-hm,” Tino mimics, and kisses him again.

He feels Berwald smile against his lips, then the next moment, he is being spun in the air. Tino squeals and clings to him tightly. “Ahh, what are you doing?”

Berwald doesn’t answer, just spins him even faster. When he finally stops, Tino can feel his chest rising and falling from exertion, and the world is a multicolour blur of Christmas lights and fireworks. Tino gently hits a fist against Berwald’s chest. “You’re crazy,” he laughs breathlessly. “You know that?”

Berwald meets his eyes intensely. “I’m crazy about you.”

From the park beyond the fence, the crowd begins chanting. Five…four…three…two…one…

The joyous whistles and cheers erupt – and a moment later, Erland and Peter come barrelling into them, Hana yapping at their ankles. Berwald stumbles and releases Tino onto his feet. He stays in Berwald’s embrace, but opens his arms wide enough that their children can join.

Tino gazes around at his little family in the moonlight, and his heart is full.

III

Emil cringes as another body pushes past him. The Main Street is swarming with people waiting excitedly to ring in the new year, their bodies packed so closely it’s almost impossible to move past. But Leon’s grip on his hand is firm, pulling him steadily onwards through the crowd, and he clings to it like a lifeline.

“Not far now,” Leon calls over his shoulder. “It’s worth it, you’ll see.”

Usually, Emil would be at home on New Year’s Eve, drinking sparkling cider and watching the ball drop on television. But this year, when his boyfriend had messaged him asking to meet at the marketplace before midnight, he had accepted immediately.

He doesn’t like crowds, or noise, or being out after dark – but it’s worth it to spend time with Leon.

Finally, they reach the bridge, and Leon pulls him aside against the railings. The crowd is thinner here, and they finally have enough space to breathe and look each other in the eye.

“Hey,” Leon says, his eyes glittering golden-brown in the lamplight.

Emil can’t help but smile. “Hi.” He blushes. “I missed you.”

Leon laughs and wraps a warm arm around him. “It’s not been that long! I saw you on Christmas Eve.”

“Too long.”

“You’re adorable.” Leon pinches his cheek. “You’re the cutest boyfriend ever.”

Emil buries his face in Leon’s chest, embarrassed. “M’not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, you are.”

“No, you.”

“No – “ Leon ducks his head and silences him with a kiss. Emil closes his eyes and presses closer, deepens the kiss, and Leon responds with equal pressure – and the world shrinks to just the two of them, the warmth of their bodies pressed together and the electricity of their embrace.

Suddenly, a ripple of excitement runs through the crowd. Emil draws back, slightly dazed, and looks around. “What’s happening?”

Leon looks at his watch. “It’s almost time. Ten seconds.”

As if on cue, the crowd begins the countdown in unison. Emil catches Leon’s eye, sees the sparkle of anticipation, and they join in, their voices carried away by the energy of the people around them. In that moment, Emil suddenly feels a strange connection to all these people; all these strangers with whom he has nothing in common, except that they’re all moving into the new year, the new decade, together.

“Three…two…one…”

The moment the bell chimes, Emil feels Leon’s arm fling around his shoulders and the click of his phone camera. It’s so unexpected, he doesn’t have time to put on his usual shy scowl for the camera – instead, Leon captures him in his raw happiness, grinning and laughing in the first second of the new year.

As the crowd begins to scatter around them, Leon lowers his phone and shows Emil the photograph.

Behind them, the dark river glows with the reflections of fireworks bursting above it, and their faces are lit golden by the lights around them. They’re both grinning, faces pressed close together, eyes scrunched up with pure unfiltered joy.

Emil blinks. He’s always thought he was ugly in photographs, so it’s strange to see himself looking so radiant; but it’s strange in a good way, he thinks. It’s like a new version of himself, a version he hasn’t met yet.

“Do you like it?” Leon asks.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “Yeah, I do. Can you send it to me?”

“Sure.”

Leon types on his screen, and, a second later, Emil’s phone lights up. He taps in his passcode and clicks on the message, and smiles as the photograph fills his screen – their joyful, glowing faces, alight with the promise of a new start.

His eyes travel to the bottom of the picture, where Leon has added a simple caption:

Happy New Year!

#happy new year!!!🎉#aph norway #aph denmark #dennor #aph sweden #aph finland #sufin #aph iceland #aph hong kong #hongice #liluwrites #❤️

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